"She's like Margaret; she's really one of us," remarked Mrs. Forrest to her brother. "She carries herself as Margaret did in her girlhood, and she's dark, as we all are."
"I hope she's escaped the Dameron traits; they're unattractive," said Rodney Merriam. "She's taller than Margaret; but Margaret was bent at the last,—bent but not quite broken."
Mrs. Forrest and Zelda Dameron, her niece, who were just home from a five years' absence abroad, had, so to speak, stepped directly from the train into Mrs. Carr's drawing-room. The place was full of women, old and young, and their animated talk blended in a great murmur, against which the notes of a few stringed instruments in the hall above struggled bravely.
