1 And this was precisely what Miss Bart had done.
2 The train swayed again, almost flinging Miss Bart into his arms.
3 The next morning, on her breakfast tray, Miss Bart found a note from her hostess.
4 It was not that Miss Bart was afraid of losing her newly-acquired hold over Mr. Gryce.
5 Miss Bart shrank from it slightly, and then flung herself into precipitate explanations.
6 Miss Bart caught the startled glance of Mr. Percy Gryce, whose own lips were never defiled by tobacco.
7 Younger and plainer girls had been married off by dozens, and she was nine-and-twenty, and still Miss Bart.
8 In the afternoon rush of the Grand Central Station his eyes had been refreshed by the sight of Miss Lily Bart.
9 The woman, without answering, pushed her pail aside, and continued to stare as Miss Bart swept by with a murmur of silken linings.
10 One or two persons, in brushing past them, lingered to look; for Miss Bart was a figure to arrest even the suburban traveller rushing to his last train.
11 Miss Pragg, the secretary, had been called away, and there would be notes and dinner-cards to write, lost addresses to hunt up, and other social drudgery to perform.
12 Most timidities have such secret compensations, and Miss Bart was discerning enough to know that the inner vanity is generally in proportion to the outer self-depreciation.
13 But Miss Bart, it appeared, really did want to know about Americana; and moreover, she was already sufficiently informed to make the task of farther instruction as easy as it was agreeable.
14 He had his race's accuracy in the appraisal of values, and to be seen walking down the platform at the crowded afternoon hour in the company of Miss Lily Bart would have been money in his pocket, as he might himself have phrased it.
15 He felt the confused titillation with which the lower organisms welcome the gratification of their needs, and all his senses floundered in a vague well-being, through which Miss Bart's personality was dimly but pleasantly perceptible.
16 Miss Bart had the gift of following an undercurrent of thought while she appeared to be sailing on the surface of conversation; and in this case her mental excursion took the form of a rapid survey of Mr. Percy Gryce's future as combined with her own.
17 As she entered her bedroom, with its softly-shaded lights, her lace dressing-gown lying across the silken bedspread, her little embroidered slippers before the fire, a vase of carnations filling the air with perfume, and the last novels and magazines lying uncut on a table beside the reading-lamp, she had a vision of Miss Farish's cramped flat, with its cheap conveniences and hideous wall-papers.
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