Wondrously pretty looked the youthful _dbutante_, in silvery silk and misty lace and pearls, her eyes like blue stars, her cheeks like June roses.
In the wintery dusk of the short December days, Mrs.Walraven received her guests in the library, an imposing room, oak-paneled, crimson-draped, and filled from floor to ceiling with a noble collection of books.

Great snow-flakes fluttered against the plate glass, and an icy blast howled up the avenue, but in the glittering dining-room flowers bloomed, and birds sung, and tropical fruits perfumed the air; and radiant under the gas-light, beautiful Miss Dane flashed the light of her blue eyes, and looked like some lovely little sprite from fairy-land.
Miss Blanche Oleander, darkly majestic in maize silk and jewels, sat at Miss Dane's right hand, and eyed her coldly with jealous dislike.

Mollie read her through at the first glance.
"She hates me already," thought Mr.Walraven's ward; "and your tall women, with flashing black eyes and blue-black hair, are apt to be good haters.

Very well, Miss Oleander; it shall be just as you like." A gentleman sat on her other hand--a handsome young artist--Mr.Hugh Ingelow, and he listened with an attentive face, while she held her own with the sarcastic Blanche, and rather got the best of the battle.
"The little beauty is no dunce," thought Mr.Hugh Ingelow.

"Miss Blanche has found a foe worthy of her best steel." And coming to this conclusion, Mr.Ingelow immediately began making himself agreeable to his fair neighbor.