Mrs. Costello was a widow with a fortune; a person of much distinction, who frequently intimated that, if she were not so dreadfully liable to sick headaches, she would probably have left a deeper impress upon her time.
hat on EARTH are you so grave about?" she suddenly demanded, fixing her agreeable eyes upon Winterbourne's.
"Am I grave?" he asked. "I had an idea I was grinning from ear to ear."
"You look as if you were taking me to a funeral. If that's a grin, your ears are very near together."
"If she had lived, I should have got nothing. She would never have married me, I am sure."
a number of other mourners, a number larger than the scandal excited by the young lady's career would have led you to expect.
Winterbourne, to do him justice, as it were, mentioned to no one that he had encountered Miss Miller, at midnight, in the Colosseum with a gentleman; but nevertheless, a couple of days later, the fact of her having been there under these circumstances was known to every member of the little American circle, and commented accordingly.
a young lady whom a gentleman need no longer be at pains to respect.
"It is very true," Winterbourne pursued, "that Daisy and her mamma have not yet risen to that stage of—what shall I call it?—of culture at which the idea of catching a count or a marchese begins. I believe that they are intellectually incapable of that conception."
"You may be very sure she thinks of nothing. She goes on from day to day, from hour to hour, as they did in the Golden Age. I can imagine nothing more vulgar.
"It has never occurred to Mr. Winterbourne to offer me any tea," she said with her little tormenting manner.
"I have offered you advice," Winterbourne rejoined.
"I prefer weak tea!" cried Daisy, and she went off with the brilliant Giovanelli.
"Of course she's pretty. But she is very common."
"I see what you mean, of course," said Winterbourne after another pause.
