Addams‚Äô ‚ÄúNewer Ideals of Peace,‚Äù and he had yawned over it undisguisedly. Then he had brought this novel, and‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, she had balked at the second chapter, and he had kissed her and called her his ‚Äúlittle prude.‚Äù She did not want to be a prude; she hated to seem so, and had for some time prided herself on emancipation from narrow New England prejudices. For example, she had not objected to wine at dinner; it had seemed indeed rather fine, imparting, as it did, an old-fashioned flavor; but she did not like the whiskey, and Harry at times appeared to become just a bit too lively‚ÅÝ‚Äînothing excessive, of course, but his eyes and the smell and the color were a little too suggestive. And yet he was so kind and good, and when he came in at evening he bent so gallantly for his kiss, and laid fresh flowers before her: could anything have been more thoughtful and knightly?
Just here again she was puzzled; with her folk, hard work and inflexible duty were of prime importance; they were the rock foundation; and she somehow had always counted on the courtesies of life as added to them, making them sweet and beautiful.
But in this world, not perhaps so much with Harry as with others of his set, the depths beneath the gravely inclined head, the deferential smile and ceremonious action, the light clever converse, had sounded strangely hollow once or twice when she had essayed to sound them, and a certain fear to look and see possessed her.
The bell rang, and she was a little startled at the fright that struck her heart. She did not analyze it. In reality‚ÅÝ‚Äîpride forbade her to admit it‚ÅÝ‚Äîshe feared it was a call of some of Harry‚Äôs friends: some languid, assured Southern ladies, perilously gowned, with veiled disdain for this interloping Northerner and her strong mind. Especially was there one from New Orleans, tall and dark‚ÅÝ‚Äî