The Buccaneers

the oracle of transatlantic pilgrims in quest of a social opening.

After all, if my friends are kind enough to come here, I want my house

and myself, tiny as we both are, to be presentable.”

They simply don’t know,” she explained to an American friend who also lived there, “what they’re asking me to give up.”

A bad coffee-year, I suppose.”

I hear of nothing but Americans. My son’s house is always full of them.”

I hear of nothing but Americans. My son’s house is always full of them.”

was plain and therefore negligible, for she had the precise kind of plainness which, as mothers of rival daughters know, may suddenly blaze into irresistible beauty.

“Oh, that Eglinton girl! She looked at us all as if we weren’t there.”

“Well, that’s the way for a lady to look at strangers,” said Mrs. St George heroically.

I think she’s lovely.”