"1. Why am I upset? For several reasons, some of which have been clouding
the horizon for many years, others crashing up like a thunder-storm.

"I have for a long time past noticed a certain apathy in the social
atmosphere of the little circle that formed my world. I gave up any
pretensions to general New York society after my father's death, which
came at a time when the social centre was splitting into several cliques;
distances increased, New Year's calling ceased, going to the country for
even midwinter holidays came in vogue, and cosmopolitanism finally
overcame the neighbourhood community interest of my girlhood. People
stopped making evening calls uninvited; you no longer knew who lived in
the street or even next house, save by accident; the cosey row of private
dwellings opposite turned to lodging houses and sometimes worse; friends
who had not seen me for a few months seemed surprised to find me living
in the same place. When I began to go about again, one day Cordelia
Martin (she was a Bleecker--your father will remember her) met me in the
street and asked me to come in the next evening informally to dinner and
meet her sister, an army officer's wife, who would be there _en route_
from one post to another, and have an old-time game of whist.

"I went, glad to see old friends, and anticipating a pleasant evening. I
wore a new soft black satin gown slightly V in front, some of my best
lace, and my pearl ornaments; I even wondered if the latter were in good
taste at a family dinner. You know I never dwell much upon attire, but it
is sometimes necessary when it is in a way epoch making.

"A butler had supplanted Cordelia's usual cordial waitress; he presented
a tray for the card that I had not brought and said 'second story front.'
This seemed strange to me, as Cordelia herself had always come to the