very thorough.

Mrs. Bonnycastle met it, however, but, with mocking laughter. "I'm
sure I don't know! What's your own?"--and she left him to turn to
her other guests, to several of whom she repeated his question.
Could they tell her what was the social position of Mrs. Steuben?
There was Count Vogelstein who wanted to know. He instantly became
aware of course that he oughtn't so to have expressed himself.
Wasn't the lady's place in the scale sufficiently indicated by Mrs.
Bonnycastle's acquaintance with her? Still there were fine degrees,
and he felt a little unduly snubbed. It was perfectly true, as he
told his hostess, that with the quick wave of new impressions that
had rolled over him after his arrival in America the image of
Pandora was almost completely effaced; he had seen innumerable
things that were quite as remarkable in their way as the heroine of
the Donau, but at the touch of the idea that he might see her and
hear her again at any moment she became as vivid in his mind as if
they had parted the day before: he remembered the exact shade of
the eyes he had described to Mrs. Bonnycastle as yellow, the tone of
her voice when at the last she expressed the hope he might judge
America correctly. HAD he judged America correctly? If he were to
meet her again she doubtless would try to ascertain. It would be
going much too far to say that the idea of such an ordeal was
terrible to Count Otto; but it may at least be said that the thought
of meeting Pandora Day made him nervous. The fact is certainly
singular, but I shall not take on myself to explain it; there are
some things that even the most philosophic historian isn't bound to
account for.

He wandered into another room, and there, at the end of five