'He came to live at Peckham when I was sixteen. I had just left school,
and was to go into father's business. Mrs FitzHerbert left cards, and
very soon we were acquainted. Beatrice had been a good time in a French
convent school. She had only knocked about with the army a little while,
but it had brought her out. I remember I thought she was miles above
me--which she was. She wasn't bad-looking, either, and you know men all
like her. I bet she'd marry again, in spite of the children.

'At first I fluttered round her. I remember I'd got a little, silky
moustache. They all said I looked older than sixteen. At that time I was
mad on the violin, and she played rather well. Then FitzHerbert went off
abroad somewhere, so Beatrice and her mother half lived at our house.
The mother was an invalid.

'I remember I nearly stood on my head one day. The conservatory opened
off the smoking-room, so when I came in the room, I heard my two sisters
and Beatrice talking about good-looking men.

'"I consider Bertram will make a handsome man," said my younger sister.

'"He's got beautiful eyes," said my other sister.

'"And a real darling nose and chin!" cried Beatrice. "If only he was
more _solide_! He is like a windmill, all limbs."

'"He will fill out. Remember, he's not quite seventeen," said my elder
sister.