human
Madre mia, I called to inquire if you have survived the anxiety of last night, and to know what _jeune sauvage_ or feir _religieuse_ you may have had sent you for the galvanizing of Belgravia?
gpt
My dear Philip, I hardly know; she puzzles me. She's what, if she were a man, I should classify as a detrimental.
human
Is she awkward?
gpt
Not in the least. Perfect manners, wherever she learned them.
human
Brusque?
gpt
Soft as a gazelle. Very like her mother.
human
Brown?
gpt
Fair as that statuette, with a beautiful bloom; lovely gold hair, too, and hazel eyes.
human
What are the shortcomings, then?
gpt
There are none; and it's that that puzzles me. She's been six years in that convent, and yet, I do assure you, her style is perfect. She's hardly eighteen, but she's the air of the best society. She is--a--well, _almost_ nobody, as people rank now, you know, for poor dear Lilla's marriage was not what she should have made, but the girl might be a royal duke's daughter for manner.
human
A premature artificial _femme du monde_? Bah! nothing more odious, said Carruthers, poising a macaroon on Pandore's nose.
gpt
Make ready!--present!--fire! There's a good dog!
human
No, nothing of that sort: very natural, frank, vivacious. Nothing artificial about her; very charming indeed! But she might be a young Countess, the queen of a _monde_ rather than a young girl just out of a French convent; and, you know, my dear Philip, that sort of wit and nonchalance may be admirable for Cecil Cheveley, assured of her position, but they're dangerous to a girl like this Flora Montolieu: they will make people remark her and ask who she is, and try to pull her to pieces, if they don't find her somebody they _dare_ not hit. I would much rather she were of the general pattern, pleasing, but nothing remarkable, well-bred, but nothing to envy, thoroughly educated, but monosyllabic in society; such a girl as that passes among all the rest, suits mediocre men (and the majority of men _are_ mediocre, you know, my dear Philip), and pleases women because she is a nice girl, and no rival; but this little Montolieu----
gpt
Will worry your life out! I must go, for I have to sit in court-martial at two (for a mere trifle, a deuced bore to us, but _le service oblige_!), so I shall escape introduction to your little Montolieu to-day. Why _will_ you fill your house with girls, my dear mother?--it is fifty times more agreeable when you are reigning alone. Henceforth, I can't come in to lunch with you without going through the formula of a mild flirtation--women think you so ill-natured if you don't flirt a little with them, that amiable men like myself haven't strength of mind to refuse. You should keep _your_ house an open sanctuary for me, when you know I've no other in London except when I retreat into White's and the U. S.!
human
She puzzles me! pondered Lady Marabout, as Despréaux disrobed her that night.
gpt
I always _am_ to be puzzled, I think! I never _can_ have one of those quiet, mediocre, well-mannered, remarkable-for-nothing girls, who have no idiosyncrasies and give nobody any trouble; one marries them safely to some second-rate man; nobody admires them, and nobody dislikes them; they're to society what neutral tint is among body-colors, or rather what grays are among dresses, inoffensive, unimpeachable, always look ladylike, but never look brilliant; colorless dresses are very useful, and so are characterless girls; and I dare say the draper would tell us the grays in the long run are the easiest to sell, as the girls are to marry; they please the commonplace taste of the generality, and do for every-day wear! Flora Montolieu puzzles me; she is very charming, very striking, very lovable, but she puzzles me! I have a presentiment that that child will give me a world of anxiety, an infinitude of trouble!