gave him would have caused a less determined man to quail. It was her way
of closing an argument, no matter whether it was with her butcher, her
grocer, of the bishop himself. Such a look is best described as imperious,
although one less reserved than I but perhaps more potently metaphorical
would say that she simply looked a hole through you, seeing beyond you as
if you were not there at all. She had found it especially efficacious in
dealing with the butcher and even the bishop, to say nothing of the effect
it always had upon the commonplace nobodies who go to the butcher and the
bishop for the luxuries of both the present and the future life, and it
had seldom failed to wither and blight the most hardy of masculine
opponents. It was not always so effective in crushing the members of her
own sex, for there were women in New York society who could look straight
through Mrs. Tresslyn without even appearing to suspect that she was in
the range of vision. She had been known, however, to stare an English duke
out of countenance, and it was a long time before she forgave herself for
doing so. It would appear that it is not the proper thing to do. Crushing
the possessor of a title is permissible only among taxi-drivers and
gentlemen whose daughters are already married.

Her stony look did not go far toward intimidating young Mr. Thorpe. He was
a rather sturdy, athletic looking fellow with a firm chin and a well-set
jaw, and a pair of grey eyes that were not in the habit of wavering.

"I came here to see Anne," he said, a stubborn expression settling in his
face. "Is she afraid to see me, or is she obeying orders from you, Mrs.
Tresslyn?"

"She doesn't care to see you," said Mrs. Tresslyn. "That's all there is to
be said about it, Braden."