eagerly--a little more eagerly than most of them responded--while
Walter nodded in a noncommittal manner to one or two, said
nothing, and yawned audibly, the last resource of a person who
finds himself nervous in a false situation. He repeated his yawn
and was beginning another when a convulsive pressure upon his arm
made him understand that he must abandon this method of
reassuring himself. They were close upon the floral bower.

Mildred was giving her hand to one and another of her guests as
rapidly as she could, passing them on to her father and mother,
and at the same time resisting the efforts of three or four
detached bachelors who besought her to give over her duty in
favour of the dance-music just beginning to blare.

She was a large, fair girl, with a kindness of eye somewhat
withheld by an expression of fastidiousness; at first sight of
her it was clear that she would never in her life do anything
"incorrect," or wear anything "incorrect." But her correctness
was of the finer sort, and had no air of being studied or
achieved; conduct would never offer her a problem to be settled
from a book of rules, for the rules were so deep within her that
she was unconscious of them. And behind this perfection there
was an even ampler perfection of what Mrs. Adams called
"background." The big, rich, simple house was part of it, and
Mildred's father and mother were part of it. They stood beside
her, large, serene people, murmuring graciously and gently
inclining their handsome heads as they gave their hands to the
guests; and even the youngest and most ebullient of these took on
a hushed mannerliness with a closer approach to the bower.