"Who are the arrivals?" she asked at once.
And here was pronounced, for the first time before Chloris, the name of Cytherea.
"Cytherea, Damon? Who is Cytherea? Where does she come from? Do you know her?"
"Very slightly," answered the young man; "I have met her in town. She had told me she thought of coming here for the summer, but I supposed it was conversation. I had completely forgotten, until I saw her this afternoon. She is entranced with everything! You can never see our poky little old place in its true light: you must get a description of it from her, Chloris. She will find it deadly dull before the end of a week; but for the moment she imagines quiet to be all she wants. She has been working like a slave at doing the proper thing in town."
"She has brought her style with her, I see."
"They are inseparable. She arrived yesterday on the late train, and you should see the change already in the Beauregard."
"You have been there, then?"
"Just a moment. They called to me from the veranda. They were having tea. Fancy their bringing down a grand-piano!"
"Does she play much?"