nmistakably a
little, withered, yellowing old maid. She had not even the remains of
good looks. No dressing or decoration possible to woman could make her
anything but what she was, or deceive any one about her, or induce any
one to feel interested in her. The handsome, stately girl who stood
smiling near her was about to enter the drawing-room quite unconcerned
as to her own appearance, and indeed not thinking about it; and the
homely little old maid was quite distressed lest the company generally
should not sufficiently admire her, or should find any fault with her
dress.

"Come along, you silly poetess," said Minola at last, breaking into a
laugh, and fairly drawing her companion away from the looking-glass.
"What do you think anybody will care about you or me? We'll steal in
unnoticed, and we'll be all right."

"It's the first time I ever was in London society, Minola, dear, and
I'm quite nervous."

"It's the first time I ever was in London society, and I'm not a bit
nervous. No one knows us, dear--and no one cares. So come along."

She fairly carried Mary Blanchet out of the dressing-room, along a
corridor lined with seats, on which people who had been in the
drawing-room and had come out, were chattering, and flirting, and
lounging--and at last over the threshold of the drawing-room, and into
the presence of the hostess. A few friendly words were got through, and
Minola dragged her companion along through the crowd into the recess
formed by a window where there were some unoccupied seats.

"Now, Mary, that's done. The plunge is made, dear! We are in society!
Let us sit down here--and look at it."

"This," said Mary faintly--"this, at last, is society."

"I suppose it is, dear. At least it will do very well for you and me.
We should never know any difference. Imagine all these people marquises
and countesses, and what more can we want to make us happy? They may be
marquises and countesses for all I know."

"I should think there must be some great poets, and authors, and
artists, Minola. I am sure there must be. Oh, there is my brother!"

In effect Mr. Herbert Blanchet had already fixed his dark eyes on
Minola, and was making his way up to her retreat, rather to Minola's
distress. He addressed Minola at once with that undefinable manner of
easy and kindly superiority which he always adopted toward women, and
which, it must be owned, impressed some women a great deal. To his
sister he held out, while hardl