She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business.
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