This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1911 edition. Excerpt: ... it was with something like admiration for her own self-command that, on the appointed hour, she stepped into the waiting automobile. Her nod to Mrs. Godfrey on the veranda was, she thought, just the right combination of acknowledgment and of dignity. She was very well satisfied, also, with the effect ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1911 edition. Excerpt: ... it was with something like admiration for her own self-command that, on the appointed hour, she stepped into the waiting automobile. Her nod to Mrs. Godfrey on the veranda was, she thought, just the right combination of acknowledgment and of dignity. She was very well satisfied, also, with the effect of her new brown-and-white foulard over its well-starched white petticoat; and beneath her burnt-straw hat, which had cost her fifteen dollars at, Boylston Street, and therefore must be correct, her well-tanned face glistened innocent of powder, and filled with the calm self-contentment of one who goes to lunch with a princess. "Have a good time!" called Cynthia's girlish voice from the veranda. Miss Hibbard nodded grimly. That was what she meant to do. "And no thanks to you, either!" she murmured under her breath as the automobile whirled down the drive. It was some disappointment to her, on her arrival at the tiny villa of the princess, to find that she was to have no opportunity of extending her acquaintance among the caste which she felt to be her own. But before lunch was half done, she had come to see how much more compliment, how much more subtle appreciation of her birth and personality, was conveyed by this little family lunch. Loletta, after the ices, was banished for her siesta. But even before the cosy coffee and cigarettes, te'te-a-te'te with the princess in a shady corner of the garden, Miss Hibbard had been made to feel how deeply she was appreciated in this house, and how much honor she had done it in accepting its hospitality. Corinna Martinoff, who in her time had made and unmade ambassadors, who had sent men to the Urals and women to the cloister, had no very hard task in fascinating a rather dull, snobbish, and conceited...
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