The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. Michelle looked her up and down, liking the results of her efforts. Chapter XIII “HE WILL NOT FORGET!” The external changes in Brendon following on his alteration of fortune were sufficiently noticeable. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart.
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