Life had taught her that the one infallible method for impressing your generation is to impress it by a difference, and, beginning as a variation from type, she had ended by commanding attention as a preserved specimen of an extinct species.
Long, wiry, animated, and habitually perturbed, she moved in a continual flutter of speech--a creature to be reckoned with from the little, flat, round curls upon her temples, which looked as if each separate hair was held in place by a particular wire, to the sweep of her black velvet train, which surged at an exaggerated length behind her feet.

Her face was like an old and tattered comic mask which, though it has been flung aside as no longer provocative of pleasant mirth, still carries upon its cheeks and eyebrows the smears of the rouge pot and the pencil.
"My dear Angela," she now asked in her excited tones, "have you really been walking about again?
I lay awake all night fearing that you had over-taxed your strength yesterday.

Mrs.Francis Barnes--you never knew her of course, but she was a distant cousin of Horace's--died quite suddenly, without an instant's warning, after having walked rapidly twice up and down the room.

Since then I have always looked upon movement as a very dangerous thing." "Well, I could hardly die suddenly under any circumstances," returned Angela, indifferently.

"You've been watching by my death-bed for forty years." "Oh, dear sister," pleaded Mrs.Bleeker, whose heart, was as soft as her bosom.
"It does sound as if you thought we really wanted your things," commented Mrs.Payne, opening and shutting her painted fan.