General Hobson was a person of eminence; Washington had been very civil to him; and the American officer felt a kind of host's responsibility.
"Wait a moment; I'll try and find somebody." He disappeared, and the party maintained itself with difficulty in a corner of the landing against the pressure of a stream of damsels, who crowded to the open doors of the rooms, looked through the gratings which bar the entrance without obstructing the view, chattered, and moved on.

General Hobson stood against the wall, a model of angry patience.

Cecilia Boyson, glancing at him with a laughing eye, said in Roger's ear: "How sad it is that your uncle dislikes us so!" "Us?
What do you mean ?" "That he hates America so.

Oh, don't say he doesn't, because I've watched him, at one, two, three parties.

He thinks we're a horrid, noisy, vulgar people, with most unpleasant voices, and he thanks God for the Atlantic--and hopes he may never see us again." "Well, of course, if you're so certain about it, there's no good in contradicting you.