I knew her at the first glance. She was the General!
I was for a moment surprised to see her so young and girlish, though I might have known; for she was Milly's schoolmate. I doubt if she's two years my senior, but in social arts and finesse—ah, the difference!
The house seemed to belong to her from the moment she entered. She moved like a whirlwind—a well-mannered and exquisitely dressed whirlwind, of course—with an air of abounding vigour and vitality, up to where we stood, and there stopped short.
"How d'y'do?" she said, in the clipped New York fashion, looking at me with the confidence of one who is never at a loss—and then—
Oh, the joy! For all her savoir faire, it was her turn to be confused. For a moment she peered at me with a short-sighted squint; then after a little hesitation, she put up her lorgnette, making an impatient gesture, as if to say: "I can't help it; I must"—and stared.
Her eyes grew big as she gazed; but at last she drew a long breath, and put down the quizzing-glass with an effect of self-denial. When she spoke there was little to remind me of her momentary loss of self-command.
"Are you enjoying New York?" she demanded.
"Milly tells me you've never been in the city before; that you are studying at Barnard."
"Yes."
I knew that I had impressed this strong, splendid woman, but I was a little afraid of her.