tesy, there is no need of other adaptation to the character of others, to make one's way freely and gracefully through the crowd.
My father was delighted to see him, and after a short parley in the hall — “We will dine together,” he cried, “then we shall have time to tell all our stories.”
P. hesitated a moment, then said, “My wife is with me.”
“And mine with me,” said my father, “that's well; they, too, will have an opportunity of getting acquainted and can entertain one another, if they get tired of our college stories.”
P. acquiesced, with a grave bow, and shortly after they all met in the dining-room. My father was much surprised at the appearance of Mrs. P. He had heard that his friend married abroad, but nothing further, and he was not prepared to see the calm, dignified P. with a woman on his arm, still handsome, indeed, but whose coarse and imperious expression showed as low habits of mind as her exaggerated dress and gesture did of education. Nor could there be a greater contrast to my mother, who, though understanding her claims and place with the certainty of a lady, was soft and retiring in an uncommon degree.
However, there was no time to wonder or fancy; they sat down, and P. engaged in conversation, without much vivacity, but with his usual ease. The first quarter of an hour passed well enough. But soon it was observable that Mrs. P. was drinking glass after glass of wine, to an extent few gentlemen did, even then, and soon that she was actually excited by it.
