Lady Glencora was met at the top of the stairs by Lady Monk, who came out to her, almost into the gallery, with her sweetest smile,--so that the newly-arrived guest, of course, entered into the small room. There sat the Duchess of St. Bungay on her stool in the corner, and there, next to the Duchess, but at the moment engaged in no conversation, stood Mr. Bott. There was another lady there, who stood very high in the world, and whom Lady Monk was very glad to welcome--the young Marchioness of Hartletop. She was in slight mourning; for her father-in-law, the late Marquis, had died no t yet quite six months since. Very beautiful she was, and one whose presence at their houses ladies and gentlemen prized alike. She never said silly things, like the Duchess, never was troublesome as to people's conduct to her, was always gracious, yet was never led away into intimacies, was without peer the best-dressed woman in London, and yet gave herself no airs;--and then she was so exquisitely beautiful. Her smile was loveliness itself. There were, indeed, people who said that it meant nothing; but then, what should the smile of a young married woman mean? She had not been born in the purple, like Lady Glencora, her father being a country clergyman who had never reached a higher grade than that of an archdeacon; but she knew the ways of high life, and what an exigeant husband would demand of her, much better than poor Glencora. She would have spoken of no man as a baboon with a bristly beard. 
Lady Glencora was met at the top of the stairs by Lady Monk, who came out to her with her sweetest smile. Lady Glencora entered the small room, where sat the Duchess of St. Bungay, with Mr. Bott standing next to her.
There was another lady there, who stood very high in the world, and whom Lady Monk was very glad to welcome - the young Marchioness of Hartletop. Very beautiful she was, and never said silly things, was always gracious, yet was never led away into intimacies, was the best-dressed woman in London, and yet gave herself no airs - and she was exquisitely beautiful. Her smile was loveliness itself. There were, indeed, people who said that it meant nothing; but then, what should the smile of a young married woman mean? Her father had been a country clergyman; but she knew the ways of high life much better than poor Glencora. She would have spoken of no man as a baboon with a bristly beard. 