"Mrs. Mesh?" Florimond apparently did not remember.
"The wife of Donald Mesh; your grandfathers were first cousins. I don't mean her grandfather, but her husband's. If you don't remember her, I suppose he married her after you went away."
"I remember Donald; but I never knew he was a relation. He was single then, I think."
"Well, he 's double now," said Miss Daintry; "he 's triple, I may say, for there are two ladies in the house."
"If you mean he 's a polygamist—are there Mormons even here?" Florimond, leaning back in his chair, with his elbow on the arm, and twisting with his gloved fingers the point of a small fair mustache, did not appear to have been arrested by this account of Mr. Mesh's household; for he almost immediately asked, in a large, detached way,—"Are there any nice women here?"
"It depends on what you mean by nice women; there are some very sharp ones."
"Oh, I don't like sharp ones," Florimond remarked, in a tone which made his aunt long to throw her sofa-cushion at his head. "Are there any pretty ones?"
She looked at him a moment, hesitating. "Rachel Torrance is pretty, in a strange, unusual way, black hair and blue eyes, a serpentine figure, old coins in her tresses; that sort of thing."
"I have seen a good deal of that sort of thing," said Florimond, a little confusedly.
