town, and whose ancestors had been possessed not only of influence but
of wealth ever since early colonial days, were old and dear friends of
Mrs. Frostwinch and always decorated her parlors on gala nights with
their benign presence. Mr. Peter Calvin, the leader of art fashions,
high priest of Boston conservatism, and author of numerous laboriously
worthless books, seldom failed to diffuse the aroma of his patronizing
personality through the handsome parlors of this hospitable mansion
when there was any reasonable chance of his securing an audience to
admire him; and in general terms the company was what the newspapers
call select and distinguished.

For Mrs. Frostwinch was entitled to a leading place in society upon
whichever of the three great principles it was based. She was descended
from one of the best of American families, while her good-tempered if
somewhat shadowy husband was of lineage quite as unexceptional as her
own. She was possessed of abundant wealth, while in cleverness and
culture she was the peer of any of the brilliant people who frequented
her house. She was moderately pretty, dressed beautifully, was sweet
tempered, and possessed all good gifts and graces except repose and
simplicity. She perhaps worked too hard to keep abreast of the times in
too many currents, and her mental weariness instead of showing itself
by an irritable temper found a less disagreeable outlet in a certain
nervous manner apt to seem artificial to those who did not know her
well. She was a clever, even a brilliant woman, who assembled clever
and brilliant people about her, although as has been intimated, the
result was by no means what might have been expected from such material
and such opportunities. The truth is that there seems to be a fatal
connection between exclusiveness and dulness. The people who assembled
in Mrs. Frostwinch's handsome parlors usually seemed to be
unconsciously laboring under the burden of their own respectability.