"He had the lower berth, and he gave it up to papa; he's done everything but turn himself out of doors." "I'm sure he's been very glad," Mrs.March ventured on Burnamy's behalf, but very softly, lest if she breathed upon these budding confidences they should shrink and wither away.
"I always tell papa that there's no country like America for real unselfishness; and if they're all like that, in Chicago!" The girl stopped, and added with a laugh, "But I'm always quarrelling with papa about America." "We have a daughter living in Chicago," said Mrs.March, alluringly.
But Miss Triscoe refused the bait, either because she had said all she meant, or because she had said all she would, about Chicago, which Mrs.
March felt for the present to be one with Burnamy.

She gave another of her leaps.

"I don't see why people are so anxious to get it like Europe, at home.

They say that there was a time when there were no chaperons before hoops, you know." She looked suggestively at Mrs.March, resting one slim hand on the table, and controlling her skirt with the other, as if she were getting ready to rise at any moment.

"When they used to sit on their steps." "It was very pleasant before hoops--in every way," said Mrs.March.