Explore "Transplanted" by Gertrude Atherton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
After dinner that night, Lee and Lady Mary Gifford, instead of following the other women, strolled along the corridors for a quiet chat. They were not intimate, for they had too little in common, but they admired each other and Lee had seen something more of Lady Mary than of any of the Englishwomen whom she received in her little drawing-room on Tuesdays or maintained a community of interests with during that division of the year allotted to house-parties.
"I like your cousin, or whatever he is," announced Lady Mary, clasping her hands behind her. "He doesn't talk through his nose and he's quite at his ease. As a rule I detest American men as much as I like the women. Of course he's rich -- you can always tell."