The one
young man was to be Bertram Cope. Our fond lady meant to have him and to
show him off, sure that her choicest circle could not but find him as
charming as she herself did. Most of us, at one time or another, have
thrust forward our preferences in the same confident way.
Cope made less of an impression than his patroness had hoped for. Somehow
his lithe youthfulness, his fine hair and teeth and eyes, the rich
resonance of his voice counted for little--except, perhaps, with the
granddaughter. The middle-aged people about him were used to young college
men and indifferent to them. Cope himself felt that he was in a new
environment, and a loftier one. Several of these were important people,
with names familiar through the town and beyond. He employed a caution that
almost became inexpressiveness. He also found Mrs. Phillips a shade more
formal and stately than her wont. She herself, in her furtive survey of the
board, was disappointed to find that he was not telling. "Perhaps it's that
girl," she thought; "she may be even duller than I supposed." But never
mind; all would be made right later.
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