If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. She was obliged to concede that his features were pleasing, his strength and vitality attractive; and there was no denying how well this uniform of a militia suited his figure, which was lean and powerful both. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears.
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