"I—I beg your pardon," gasped Elizabeth. "But I couldn't stand it another minute."
The two looked at each other for a moment, and then the stately woman and the hoydenish girl, with one accord, burst out laughing.
Elizabeth flung herself upon a chair and rocked convulsively.
"It—it's the first time I've ever got into society," she said between gasps; "and now I've gone and got out of it again."
"And a peculiar manner of exit you chose," said the lady, wiping her eyes on a lace handkerchief. "But I must confess I ran away too."
"You?" cried Elizabeth, amazed.
"Yes. I came here with my niece, I am sure an [Transcriber's note: line missing from source book?] hours ago. She disappeared into the card-room, and I slipped out here. I didn't come in your original manner, however." She laughed again.
"I should think not," said Elizabeth, sitting up and straightening her hat. She was now quite at her ease, since the lady was proving so delightfully sympathetic. "I am afraid I'm not truly genteel, or I shouldn't have bolted at my first sight of high life."
"How will you feel when you have been to hundreds of such affairs, all exactly alike, I wonder?" asked the lady wearily.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I couldn't stand it. My aunt thinks I need the refining influence of good society, but it doesn't seem to have had that effect upon me," she added rather mournfully.