Mrs. Catherwaight, while she was alive, lived solely for society, and,
so some people said, not only lived but died for it. She certainly did
go about a great deal, and she used to carry her husband away from his
library every night of every season and left him standing in the
doorways of drawing-rooms, outwardly courteous and distinguished
looking, but inwardly somnolent and unhappy. She was a born and
trained social leader, and her daughter's coming out was to have been
the greatest effort of her life. She regarded it as an event in the
dear child's lifetime second only in importance to her birth; equally
important with her probable marriage and of much more poignant
interest than her possible death. But the great effort proved too much
for the mother, and she died, fondly remembered by her peers and
tenderly referred to by a great many people who could not even show a
card for her Thursdays. Her husband and her daughter were not going
out, of necessity, for more than a year after her death, and then felt
no inclination to begin over again, but lived very much together and
showed themselves only occasionally.
They entertained, though, a great deal, in the way of dinners, and an
invitation to one of these dinners soon became a diploma for
intellectual as well as social qualifications of a very high order.
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