She could not object, but it seemed an unworthy end for what
had cost her so much money and pains to procure, and it was not
pleasant to see Mrs. Duncombe and Miss Moy hawking the tickets
about, like regular touters, nor the most beautiful things drawn by
the most vulgar and tasteless people.
Miss Moy had around her a court of 'horsey' men who were lounging
away the day before the races, and who had excited her spirits to a
pitch of boisterousness such as dismayed Mrs. Duncombe herself when
her attempts at repression were only laughed at.
Somehow, among these adherents, there arose a proposal for the
election of a queen of beauty, each gentleman paying half-a-crown
for the right of voting. Miss Moy bridled and tried to blush. She
was a tall, highly-coloured, flashing-eyed brunette, to whom a
triumph would be immense over the refined, statuesque, severe Miss
Vivian, and an apple-blossom innocent-looking girl who was also
present, and though Lady Tyrrell was incontestably the handsomest
person in the room, her age and standing had probably prevented her
occurring to the propounders of the scheme.
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