of an introduction.

As said above, introductions in very large cities are unimportant. In New
York, where people are meeting new faces daily, seldom seeing the same one
twice in a year, it requires a tenacious memory to recognize those one
hoped most to see again, and others are blotted out at once.

People in good society rarely ask to be introduced to each other, but if
there is a good reason for knowing some one, they often introduce
themselves; for instance, Mary Smith says:

"Mrs. Jones, aren't you a friend of my mother's? I am Mrs. Titherington
Smith's daughter." Mrs. Jones says:

"Why, my dear child, I am so glad you spoke to me. Your mother and I have
known each other since we were children!"

Or, an elder lady asks: "Aren't you Mary Smith? I have known your mother
since she was your age." Or a young woman says: "Aren't you Mrs. Worldly?"
Mrs. Worldly, looking rather freezingly, politely says "Yes" and waits.
And the stranger continues, "I think my sister Millicent Manners is a
friend of yours." Mrs. Worldly at once unbends. "Oh, yes, indeed, I am
devoted to Millicent! And you must be ----?"

"I'm Alice."

"Oh, of course, Millicent has often talked of you, and of your lovely
voice. I want very much to hear you sing some time."

These self-introductions, however, must never presumingly be made. It