She tried to whip her self-confidence, of which she was so proud, into a condition of constant pregnancy.

But the plain fact was that Maggie, the misguided child of a stolen birthright, whose soaring spirit was striving so hard to live up to the traditions and conventions of cynicism, whose young ambition it was to outshine and surpass all possible competitors in this world in which she had been placed, who in her pride believed she knew so much of life--the plain fact was that Maggie was in a state bordering on funk.
This invitation from Miss Sherwood was an ordeal she had never counted on.

She had watched the fine ladies at the millinery shop and while selling cigarettes at the Ritzmore, when she had been modeling her manners, and had believed herself just as fine a lady as they.

But that had been in the abstract.

Now she was face to face with a situation that was painfully concrete--a real test: she had to place herself into close contrast with, and under the close observation of, a real lady, and in that lady's own home.