"Why, what kind of a man do you imagine him to be, Gwendolen?"
"Let me see!" said the witch, putting her forefinger to her lips, with a little frown, and then stretching out the finger with decision. "Short--just above my shoulder--trying to make himself tall by turning up his mustache and keeping his beard long--a glass in his right eye to give him an air of distinction--a strong opinion about his waistcoat, but uncertain and trimming about the weather, on which he will try to draw me out. He will stare at me all the while, and the glass in his eye will cause him to make horrible faces, especially when he smiles in a flattering way. I shall cast down my eyes in consequence, and he will perceive that I am not indifferent to his attentions. I shall dream that night that I am looking at the extraordinary face of a magnified insect--and the next morning he will make an offer of his hand; the sequel as before."
"That is a portrait of some one you have seen already, Gwen. Mr. Grandcourt may be a delightful young man for what you know."

"Why, what kind of a man do you imagine him to be, Gwendolen?"
"Let me see!" said the witch, with a little frown. "Short - just above my shoulder - trying to make himself tall by turning up his moustache - a glass in his right eye, which will cause him to make horrible faces, especially when he smiles. I shall cast down my eyes, and he will perceive that I am not indifferent to his attentions. I shall dream that night that I am looking at the face of a magnified insect - and the next morning he will make an offer of his hand; the sequel as before."
"Mr. Grandcourt may be a delightful young man."
