She had not
been rejected. She must have become quite aware of that. She had
dropped very quickly the idea that she would be scorned. Ignorant
as she had been of English life, she perceived that she had at
once become popular. And this had been so in spite of her mother's
homeliness and her father's awkwardness. By herself and by her own
gifts she had done it. She had found out concerning herself that
she had that which would commend her to other society than that of
the Fifth Avenue. Those lords of whom she had heard were as plenty
with her as blackberries. Young Lord Silverbridge, of whom she was
told that of all the young lords of the day he stood first in rank
and wealth, was peculiarly her friend. Her brain was firmer than
that of most girls, but even her brain was a little turned. She
never told herself that it would be well for her to become the
wife of such a one. In her more thoughtful moments she told
herself that it would not be well. But still the allurement was
strong upon her. Park Lane was sweeter than the Fifth Avenue. Lord
Silverbridge was nicer than the bank clerk.
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