She had never seen any one who in the least resembled this remote silent woman.

Maggie did not know what it was that she had expected, but certainly it had not been this.

There was something in her Aunt's face that recalled her father and her uncle, something in the eyes, something in the width and height of the forehead, but this resemblance only accentuated the astounding difference.

Maggie's first impression was her ultimate one--that her aunt had strayed out of some stained-glass window into a wild world that did not bewilder her only because she did not seriously regard it.
Maggie found herself wondering who had fastened her aunt's buttons and strings when she rose in the morning, how had she ever travelled in the right train and descended at the right station?
How could she remember such trifles when her thoughts were fixed on such distant compelling dreams?
The pale oval face, the black hair brushed back from the forehead, the thin hands with long tapering fingers, the black dress, the slender upright body--this figure against the cold bright winter sunlight was a picture that remained always from that day in Maggie's soul.
Her aunt looked about her as though she had just awaked from sleep.
"Would you care to come up to your room ?" asked Maggie, feeling the embarrassment of Mr.Brassy's presence.
"Yes, dear, thank you--I will," said Miss Cardinal.

They moved from the room, Aunt Anne walking with a strange, almost clumsy uncertainty, halting from one foot to the other as though she had never learnt to trust her legs, a movement with which Maggie was to become intensely familiar.