Mathilde remembered a governess, a kind and patient person of whom Adelaide had greatly wearied, who had a habit of beginning many observations, "It may strike you as strange, but I am the sort of person who--" Mathilde was present at luncheon one day when Adelaide was repeating one of these sentences.

"It may strike you as strange, but I like to feel myself in good health." Mathilde resented the laughter that followed, and sprang to her governess's defense, yet sickeningly soon she came to see the innocent egotism that directed the choice of the phrase.
She felt as if she could not bear this process to be turned against Pete's mother, not because it would alter the respectful love she was prepared to offer this unknown figure, but because it might very slightly alter her attitude toward her own mother.

That was one of the characteristics of this great emotion: all her old beliefs had to be revised to accord with new discoveries.
This was what lay behind the shrinking of her soul as she watched her mother dress for the visit to Mrs.Wayne.For the first time in her life Mathilde wished that her mother was not so elaborate.

Hitherto she had always gloried in Adelaide's elegance as a part of her beauty; but now, as she watched the ritual of ribbons and laces and perfumes and jewels, she felt vaguely that there was in it all a covert insult to Pete's mother, who, she knew, would not be a bit like that.
"How young you are, Mama!" she exclaimed as, the whole long process complete, Adelaide stood holding out her hand for her gloves, like a little girl ready for a party.
Her mother smiled.
"It's well I am," she said, "if you go on trying to get yourself involved with young men who live up four flights of stairs.

I have always avoided even dressmakers who lived above the second story," she added wistfully.
The wistful tone was repeated when her car stopped at the Wayne door and she stepped out.
"Are you sure this is the number, Andrews ?" she asked.