He liked to think that Helen had such a comfortable refuge to fall back upon, though by the time that old Miss Buchanan appeared he had reflected that so much comfort might be just the impediment that had prevented her from taking to her wings as he felt persuaded she could and should do.

Old Miss Buchanan interested him even more than her room.

She was a firm, ample woman of over sixty, with plentiful grey hair brushed back uncompromisingly from her brow, tight lips, small, attentive eyes with projecting eyebrows over them, and an expression at once of reticence and cordiality.

She wore a black dress of an old-fashioned cut, and round her neck was a heavy gold chain and a large gold locket.
Helen would be in directly, she said, and expected him.
Franklin saw at once that she took him for granted, and that she was probably in the habit of taking all Helen's acquaintances for granted, and of making them comfortable until Helen came and took them off her hands.

She had, he inferred, many interests of her own, and did not waste much conjecture on stray callers.