Explore "The Story of Bawn" by Katharine Tynan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The memory of that long, dragging, magnificent meal is like a nightmare to me. I loathed it all, the vulgar display of gold plate -- I heard afterwards who it was that Garret Dawson had cheated out of it -- the number of men-servants, the exotic flowers that made the room sickly, the fruits out of their season.
We are simple people and not accustomed to such banquets; but I was surprised to see how greedy some of the ladies were over the turtle soup, the ortolans and truffles, all the fine things which must have been brought from far off for the dinner. There was an incessant popping of champagne corks, and I wondered at the frequent refilling of the glasses. I did not drink wine -- my grandmother did not consider it becoming in a girl -- and it seemed the hardest thing in the world to procure a glass of water, judging by the delay in bringing it when I asked for it.