became soon as familiar to Amelia as the humble routine of Brompton. She accommodated herself to one as to the other. If Fate had ordained that she should be a duchess, she would even have done that duty too. She was voted, in Jos's female society, rather a pleasing young person — not much in her, but pleasing, and that sort of thing.
The men, as usual, liked her artless kindness and simple refined demeanour. The gallant young Indian dandy at home on furlough —
immense dandies these — chained and moustached — driving in tearing cabs, the pillars of the theatres, living at West End Hotels, — nevertheless admired Mrs. Osborne, liked to bow to her carrage in the Park, and to be admitted to have the honour of paying her a morning visit. Swankey of the Body Guard himself, that dangerous youth, and the greatest buck of all the Indian army now on leave, was one day discovered by Major Dobbin tête-à-tête with Amelia, and describing the sport of pig-sticking to her
