It was perhaps the iron gray hair rolling back from the pale face held the suggestion of austerity.

But that which best expressed her was the poise of her head.

She carried it as if she had a right to carry it that way.
It was of small things she talked: the people she had met, people they knew whom Katie knew.

It was that net-work of small things she wove around Katie.

One might meet a large thing in a large way.