Margaret sat down facing her.

The young author shuffled in her chair like a school girl.

She was an odd combination of enormous egotism and the most painful shyness.

She realised at a glance that she herself was provincial and pitifully at a disadvantage personally before this elegant vision, and her personality was in reality more precious to her than her talent.
"I can not tell you what a great pleasure and privilege this is for me," said Margaret, and her blue eyes had an expression of admiring rapture.

The girl upon whom the eyes were fixed, blushed and giggled and tossed her head with a sudden show of pride.