His Grace — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

108 HIS GRACE. enough, the forefinger and the hook nose of the vener- able lady began presently to convey to us signals which it was impossible to disregard. Her ladyship—so we were informed after we had approached and had exchanged greetings with her, and with the newly-elected M.P.—was staying for a short time at Lavenham. She was accompanied by her niece, Miss St. George, to whom she was graciously pleased to introduce us, and who, I thought, took some- what unnecessary pains to show us what very small fry we were in her estimation. Miss St. George was a very tall young lady. Her large, dark eyes only rested upon me superciliously for a single moment; yet such is my calm impartiality that I was ready to acknowledge at the time, as I am ready to acknowledge now, the fact of her being singularly beautiful. I don’t say that I admired her, that is quite another thing. There is no law that I know of which compels free-born Britons to admire beauty when they see it, and if my taste is bad, it is nevertheless my taste, and will remain such. For about five minutes I listened with one ear to the fluent political commonplaces and the ill-disguised po- litical exultation of Mr. Paul Gascoigne, while with the other I caught fragments of the kindly lecture which Lady Deverell was addressing to my sister. ‘“ You really must not ask me to approve of it, my dear,” I heard her saying; “hunting cannot be considered a suitable amusement for the future wife of a parish priest. As for sport in the abstract, there is much to be said in favor of its being supported by those whose means and position entitle them to engage in it. Mr” Gascoigne, as I daresay you know, is a sportsman him- self and an excellent shot, but he has far too deep a Gomichboo <S (E(0)