Values itself so highly, that to her

  All matter else seems weak.”

            —Much Ado About Nothing.

Gwendolen’s reception in the neighborhood fulfilled her uncle’s expectations. From Brackenshaw Castle to the Firs at Wanchester, where Mr. Quallon the banker kept a generous house, she was welcomed with manifest admiration¹, and even those ladies who did not quite like her, felt a comfort in having a new, striking girl to invite; for hostesses who entertain much must make up their parties as ministers make up their cabinets, on grounds other than personal liking². Then, in order to have Gwendolen as a guest, it was not necessary to ask any one who was disagreeable, for Mrs. Davilow always made a quiet, picturesque³ figure as a chaperon, and Mr. Gascoigne was everywhere in request for his own sake.

 

Among the houses where Gwendolen was not quite liked, and yet invited, was Quetcham Hall. One of her first invitations was to a large dinner-party there, which made a sort of general introduction for her to the society of the neighborhood; for in a select party of thirty and of well-composed proportions as to age, few visitable families could be entirely⁴ left out. No youthful figure there was comparable to Gwendolen’s as she passed through the long suite⁵ of rooms adorned⁶ with light and flowers, and, visible at first as a slim figure floating along in white drapery, approached through one wide doorway⁷ after another into fuller illumination and definiteness. She had never had that sort of promenade⁸ before, and she felt

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