And so forth. The Countess was immensely admired, and though her sisters said that she was "foreignised" over-much, they clung to her desperately. She seemed so entirely to have eclipsed tailordom, or "Demogorgon," as the Countess pleased to call it. Who could suppose this grand-mannered lady, with her coroneted anecdotes and delicious breeding, the daughter of that thing? It was not possible to suppose it. It seemed to defy the fact itself.