ain that they did look upon her as one of
them.

They had indeed given her that sense of being made one of them. Their
quick, warm acceptance of her made them seem a wonderfully kindly
people. Her heart warmed to them because of this going out to her, a
stranger. That informality and friendliness which in a society like
theirs prevails well within the bounds made them seem to her a people of
real warmth. She was pleased with the thought of living among them,
being one of them; gratified, not only in the way they seemed to like
her, but by the place they gave her. There were happy little
anticipations of the life just opening up. She was flushed with pleasure
and gratification.

She was seeing the society of the town at its best that afternoon; the
women who constituted that society were there, and at their best. For
some reason they always were at their best at the Lawrences', as if
living up to the house itself, which was not only one of the most
imposing of the homes of that rich little middle-western city, but had
an atmosphere which other houses, outwardly equally attractive, lacked.
Mrs. Lawrence had taste and hospitality; the two qualities breathed
through her house. She and Edith were Freeport's most successful
hostesses. The society of that town was like the particular thing known
as society in other towns; not distinguished by any unique thing so much
as by its likeness to the thing in general. Amy, knowing society in
other places, in a larger place, was a little surprised and much pleased
at what she recognized.

And she felt that people were liking her, admiring her, and that always
put her at her best. Sometimes Amy's poise, rare in one so young, made
her seem aloof, not cordial, and she had not been one to make friends
quickly. Edith's friendliness had broken through that; she talked more
than was usual with her--was gayer, more friendly. "You're making a
great hit, my dear," Edith whispered to her gayly, and Amy flushed with
pleasure. People about the room were talking of how charming she was; of
there being something unusual in that combination of girlishness
and--they called it distinction; had Amy been in different mood they
might have spoken of it less sympathetically as an apparent feeling of
superiority. But she felt that she was with what she called her own
sort, and she was warmed in gratification by the place given herself.

She was gayly telling a little group of an amusing thing that had
ha