A Debutante in New York Society; Her Illusions and What Became of Them (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1888. Excerpt: ... is interesting to meet one in her greatest rdle, provided her talents are of rare quality, whether she be professional or non-professional. I can't call the one we just saw an amateur. Indeed, she will belong to the social history of our metropolis by-and-by, and hold no insignificant position in it either. It is something to have seen her, and to have studied her methods, that you may avoid them, my dear." I wonder if Alfred Porter would ask, "What kind of a truth is hers?" By-the-way, I suppose he is purposely avoiding me, but flowers come from him all the same. Flossy. LETTER TWENTY-THIRD. 704 Fifth Avenue, May 2d. My Dear Aunt: The last social bomb-shell was an announcement of Le Parrain's marriage. It came by letter to mamma. She read it screened by the coffee-urn, and, as we were quite busy with notes and letters, we did not learn by her manner how much effect it had upon her feelings. She tore it up, and gave the scraps to Jed to put upon the small wood-blaze that always brightens our breakfast-hour whenever the cold permits. This destruction of letters is a common practice with all of us if they require no answer, and it was by accident that I saw the kindly ebon Jed watching her with a spaniel-like sorrow in his eyes, which pity is tenderer than is common in the higher race. An unusual pallor was about her lips, and she paid a nervous devotion to the contents of her plate. Evidently she had an emotion to conceal, and, remembering that she had sometimes been pitiless to me when desiring my distress or embarrassment to remain a secret, I drew the attention of the family upon myself and to the notes I had received. She will never know that her old wound was reopened before the eyes of her daughter. Nor would I mention it to you, except to confess th...