Although much was said that was unintelligible to her, she could see
that this was not the result of intellectual deficiency on her part, but
merely of an ignorance of the ground on which the conversation was
founded. As Cornelia stole glances at the faces, pretty or pretentious,
of the young ladies, or at the mustaches, whiskers, or carefully-parted
hair of the young gentlemen, it did not seem to her that she could call
herself essentially the inferior of any one of them. As to what they
thought of her, she could only conjecture; but the gentlemen were
extravagantly polite--according to her primitive ideas of that
much-abused virtue--and the ladies were smiling, full of pretty
attitudes, small questions, and accentuated comments. No one of them,
nor of the young men either, seemed to be very hungry; but Cornelia had
her usual unexceptionable appetite, and ate stoutly to satisfy it; she
even tasted a glass of Italian wine at dessert, upon the assurance of
Aunt Margaret that "she must--_really_ must--it would never do to come
to New York without learning how to drink wine, you know;" and upon the
word of the young gentleman who sat next to her that it wouldn't hurt
her a bit--all wines were medicinal--Italian wines especially so; and
so, indeed, it proved, for Cornelia thought she had never felt so genial
a glow of sparkling life in her veins.
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