But to be received with this frank cordiality, on a basis of a equality with this finished woman--that left Maggie for the moment without arms.

She had, in her high moments, believed herself an adventuress whose poise and plans nothing could unbalance.

Now she found herself suddenly just a young girl of eighteen who didn't know what to do.
Had Maggie but known it that sudden unconscious confusion, which seemed to betray her, was really more effective for her purpose than would have been the best of conscious acting.

It established her at once as an unstagey ingenue--simple, unspoiled, unacquainted with the formulas and formalities of the world.
Miss Sherwood, in her easy possession of the situation, banished Dick with "Run away for a while, Dick, and give us two women a chance to get acquainted." She had caught Maggie's embarrassment, and led her to a corner of the veranda which looked down upon the gardens and the glistering Sound.

She spoke of the impersonal beauties spread before their vision, until she judged that Maggie's first flutter had abated; then she led the way to wicker chairs beside a table where obviously tea was to be spread.
Miss Sherwood accepted Maggie for exactly what she seemed to be; and presently she was saying in a low voice, with her smiling, unoffending directness: "Excuse the liberty of an older woman, Miss Cameron--but I don't wonder that Dick likes you.