the fresh crisp folds of the silk; the prettiest little foot in the prettiest little sandal in the finest silk stocking in the world.
The candles lighted up Lord Steyne's shining bald head, which was fringed with red hair. He had thick bushy eyebrows, with little twinkling bloodshot eyes, surrounded by a thousand wrinkles. His jaw was under-hung, and when he laughed, two white buck-teeth protruded themselves and glistened savagely in the midst of the grin. He had been dining with royal personages, and wore his garter and ribbon. A short man was his Lordship, broad-chested, and bow-legged, but proud of the fineness of his foot and ancle, and always caressing his garter-knee.
"And so the Shepherd is not enough," said he, "to defend his lambkin?"
"The Shepherd is too fond of playing at cards and going to his clubs," answered Becky, laughing.
"'Gad, what a debauched Corydon!" said my lord—"what a mouth for a pipe!"
"I take your three to two;" here said Rawdon, at the card-table.
"Hark at Melibæus," snarled the noble Marquis; "he's pastorally occupied too; he's shearing a Southdown. What an innocent mutton, hey? Damme, what a snowy fleece!"
Rebecca's eyes shot out gleams of scornful humour. "My lord," she
