It made its impression upon individual members all the same.
The six miles which separated the Saxons from Grovebury seemed to have set up an effectual barrier between them and the old world in which they had moved before.

Many people who had been friendly in the Rotherwood days did not trouble to come so far as Wynch-on-the-Wold to pay calls, and the numerous invitations which had formerly been extended to the young folks decreased this Christmas to very few.
First and foremost amongst these scanty festivities came Mrs.Desmond's dance.

It was a grown-up affair, and she had sent printed invitations to Egbert, Athelstane and Quenrede.

The latter, who only knew the Desmonds slightly and was always overwhelmed in their presence, developed a sudden and acute fit of shyness and implored to be allowed to refuse.
"If it had been the Browns' or Lawrences' I'd have loved it," she urged, "but you know, Mumsie, how Mrs.Desmond absolutely withers me up! I never can say six words when she's there.

I'd run five miles to avoid meeting her: you know I would! She's so starchy." "You see very little of your hostess at a dance.