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at goes wi' these here breeches and vicey-versey--this mulberry velvet wi'-- "Aye, to be sure, Zeb, to be sure. Now I see 'em so, I rather think we'll make it the mulberry, though to be sure the pearl-grey hath its merits--hum! We must deliberate, Zeb! 'Twill be either the mulberry or the grey or the blue and silver or t'other with the embroidery or--hum! 'Tis a problem, Zeb, a problem--we must think--a council of war!" "Aye, sir!" answered the Sergeant, staring. "Anyway, 'twill be one of them, Zeb--to-morrow afternoon. To be sure I rather fancy the orange-tawney, and yet the blue and silver--hum!" Here the perplexed Major crossed to the mullioned window and standing there drew a letter from his pocket and unfolding it with reverent fingers read these words: "DEAR AND MOST CRUEL MAJOR JOHN, To-morrow is to be an occasion, therefore to-morrow I do invite you to come at four of the clock, or as soon after as you will, to look upon the sad, pale and woeful face of deeply wronged, much abused, cruelly slandered, ELIZABETH. To Major ill-thinking, vile-imagining, basely-suspecting d'Arcy--these." CHAPTER XXIII DESCRIBES A TRIUMPH AND A DEFEAT Lady Belinda leaning back upon her cushioned day-bed, glanced up from the open book before her and surveyed her niece's lovely, down-bent head with curious solicitude. "Betty, love," said she at last, "Bet, my sweet witch, you're vapourish! So will I read to thee--list to this," and lifting her book, Lady Belinda read as follows: "'It must be granted that delicacy is essential to the composition of female beauty and that strength and robustness are contrary to the idea of it.' Alack, Betty, dear child and my sweet, I do fear you are dreadfully robust and almost repulsively strong! Hearken again: 'The beauty of women is greatly owing to their delicacy and weakness'--O my love, how just! I myself was ever most sincerely delicate and weak! How very, very true!" Here Lady Belinda paused, eyeing her niece expectantly, but, in place of indignant outburst, was silence; Betty sat apparently lost in mournful reverie. "You like Mr. Dalroyd, I think, aunt?" she enquired suddenly. "Indeed--a charming man! So elegant! Such an air--and such--O my dear--such a leg!" "Major d'Arcy has a leg also, aunt--two of 'em!" "And limps!" added Lady Belinda, "Limps woefully at times!" "'Tis a mark of distinction in a soldier!" exclaimed Betty
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