To Diane the discovery meant only that, more than she had supposed, she would have to depend upon herself.  This, to her, was the appalling fact that dwarfed all other considerations.  To be alone, while the crowds surged hurriedly by her, was one thing; to be obliged to press in among them and make room for herself was another.  As she walked aimlessly about the streets during the few days following her arrival she had the forlorn conviction that in these serried ranks there could be no place for one so insignificant as she.  The knowledge that she must make such a place, or go without food and shelter, only served to paralyze her energies and reduce her to a state of nerveless inefficiency.

She had gone forth one day with the letters of introduction she hoped would help her, only to find that none of the persons to whom they were addressed had returned to town for the winter.  Tired and discouraged, she was endeavoring on her return to cheer Mrs. Eveleth with such bits of forced humor as she could squeeze out of the commonplace happenings of the day, when cards were brought in, bearing the unknown name of Mrs. Wappinger.

That in this huge, overwhelming town any one could desire to make their acquaintance was in itself a surprise; but in the interview that followed Diane felt as though she had been caught up in a whirlwind and carried away.  Mrs. Wappinger’s autocratic breeziness was so novel in character that she had no more thought of resisting it than of resisting a summer storm.  She could only let it blow over her and bear her whither it listed.  In the end she felt like some wayfarer in the Arabian Nights, who has been wafted by kindly jinn across unknown miles of space, and set down again many leagues farther on in his career.

Never in her life did Diane receive in the same amount of time so much personal information as Mrs. Wappinger conveyed in the thirty minutes her visit lasted.  She began by explaining that she was a friend of James van Tromp’s—­a very great friend.  In fact, her husband had been at one time a partner in the Van Tromp banking-house; but it was an old business, and what they call conservative, while Mr. Wappinger was from the West.  The West was a long way ahead of New York, though Mrs. Wappinger had “lived East” so long that she had dropped into walking pace like the rest.  She traced her rise from a comparatively obscure position in Indiana to her present eminence, and gave details as to Mr. Wappinger’s courtship and the number of children she had lost.  Left now with one, she had spent a good deal of money on him, and was happy to say that he showed it.  While she preferred not to name names, she made no secret of the fact that Carli was in love; though for her own part a feeling of wounded pride induced her to hope that he would never enter a family where he wasn’t wanted.  The transition of topic having thus become easy, the invitation to tea was given, and its acceptance taken as a matter of course.