And then
she liked the signs of race, the disregard of opinion, the keen look which
lit on a man or woman and saw him negligible and left him in the road. She
had herself an artist's eye for style, and saw in Lady Maria the grand
manner. The praise or blame of such as she would be worth having; awaiting
either, she felt herself braced. She could envisage the past, collect it,
display it in her lap without fear. "Here's my life's work, so far as it
has gone. Now beat me, if you will; I'm not afraid of honest blows." She
knew there would be no sham outcries from this high-looking old dame.
Lady Maria Wenman was rich, imperious, whimsical, and afraid only of
boredom. By birth a daughter of Lord Starcross, by fate the widow of a
judge, she was strongly of opinion that she could do as she pleased. It
was not so clear to her that other people could also; but the reason of
that was that other people, not immediately about her, were not themselves
clear. She once said of a prime minister, "My dear, he seemed to me a very
good sort of man"; and that was her attitude all the world over towards
those not connected with her by blood or the affections. Marks of race she
had, but not pride of it.
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