She had been brought up to think little of such matters, or rather to avoid thinking of them.
She went through her toilette as neatly and rapidly as she could, her mind all the time so full of speculation and a deep restrained excitement that she ceased to trouble herself in the least about her gown.

As for her hair, she arranged it almost mechanically, caring only that its black masses should be smooth and in order.

She fastened at her throat a small turquoise brooch that had been her mother's; she clasped the two little chain bracelets that were the only ornaments of the kind she possessed, and then without a single backward look towards the reflection in the glass, she left her room--her heart beating fast with timidity and expectation.
* * * * * 'Oh! poor child--poor child!--what a frock!' Such was the inward ejaculation of Mrs.Burgoyne, as the door of the salon was thrown open by the Italian butler, and a very tall girl came abruptly through, edging to one side as though she were trying to escape the servant, and looking anxiously round the vast room.
Manisty also turned as the door opened.

Miss Manisty caught his momentary expression of wonder, as she herself hurried forward to meet the new-comer.
'You have been very quick, my dear, and I am sure you must be hungry .-- This is an old friend of ours--Mrs.Burgoyne--my nephew--Edward Manisty.

He knows all your Boston cousins, if not you.