one wide doorway after
another into fuller illumination and definiteness. She had never had that sort
of promenade before, and she felt exultingly that it befitted her: any one
looking at her for the first time might have supposed that long galleries and
lackeys had always been a matter of course in her life; while her cousin Anna,
who was really more familiar with these things, felt almost as much embarrassed
as a rabbit suddenly deposited in that well-lit space.
    »Who is that with Gascoigne?« said the archdeacon, neglecting a discussion
of military manoeuvres on which, as a clergyman, he was naturally appealed to.
And his son, on the other side of the room - a hopeful young scholar, who had
already suggested some »not less elegant than ingenious« emendations of Greek
texts - said nearly at the same time, »By George! who is that girl with the
awfully well-set head and jolly figure?«
    But to a mind of general benevolence, wishing everybody to look well, it was
rather exasperating to see how Gwendolen eclipsed others: how even the handsome
Miss Lawe, explained to be the daughter of Lady Lawe, looked suddenly broad,
heavy, and inanimate; and how Miss Arrowpoint, unfortunately also dressed in
white, immediately resembled a carte-de-visite in which one would fancy the
skirt alone to have been charged for. Since Miss Arrowpoint was generally liked
for the amiable unpretending way in which she wore her fortunes, and made a
softening screen for the oddities of her mother, there seemed to be some
unfitness in Gwendolen's looking so much more like a person of social
importance.
    »She is not really so handsome if you come to examine her features,« said
Mrs. Arrowpoint, later in the evening, confidentially to Mrs. Vulcany. »It is a
certain style she has, which produces a great effect at first, but afterwards
she is less agreeable.«
    In fact, Gwendolen, not intending it, but intending the contrary, had
offended her hostess, who, though not a splenetic or vindictive woman, had her
susceptibilities. Several conditions had met in the Lady of Quetcham which to
the reasoners in that neighbourhood seemed to have an essential connection with
each other. It was occasionally recalled that she had been the heiress of a
fortune gained by some moist or dry business in the city, in order fully to
account for her having a squat figure, a harsh parrot-like voice, and a
systematically high headdress; and since these points made her externally rather
ridiculous, it appeared to many only natural that she should have