Chapter 10 - Page 2

handkerchief, it was hoped, would serve for the key-stone, and then all
the ends of life would be attained. As to a husband, a pretty girl like
Eudosia, and the daughter of a man of "four figure" lots, might get one
any day.

{was out = was a debutante, had been presented to society}

Honor O'Flagherty was both short-legged and short-breathed. She felt
the full importance of her mission; and having an extensive acquaintance
among the other Milesians of the town, and of her class, she stopped no
less than eleven times to communicate the magnitude of Miss Dosie's
purchase. To two particular favorites she actually showed me, under
solemn promise of secrecy; and to four others she promised a peep
some day, after her bossee had fairly worn me. In this manner my
arrival was circulated prematurely in certain coteries, the pretty mouths
and fine voices that spoke of my marvels, being quite unconscious that
they were circulating news that had reached their ears via Honor
O'Flagherty, Biddy Noon, and Kathleen Brady.

{Milesians = slang for Irish (from Milesius, a mythical Spanish
conqueror of Ireland); Miss Dosie = Miss Eudosia; bossee = humorous
for a female boss; coteries = social sets}

Mr. Halfacre occupied a very GENTEEL residence in Broadway,
where he and his enjoyed the full benefit of all the dust, noise, and
commotion of that great thoroughfare. This house had been purchased
and mortgaged, generally simultaneous operations with this great
operator, as soon as he had "inventoried" half a million. It was a sort of
patent of nobility to live in Broadway; and the acquisition of such a
residence was like the purchase of a marquiseta in Italy. When Eudosia
was fairly in possession of a hundred-dollar pocket-handkerchief, the
great seal might be said to be attached to the document that was to
elevate the Halfacres throughout all future time.

{marquiseta = presumably the residence or palace of a Marquis}

Now the beautiful Eudosia--for beautiful, and even lovely, this glorious-
looking creature was, in spite of a very badly modulated voice, certain
inroads upon the fitness of things in the way of expression, and a want
of a knowledge of the finesse of fine life--now the beautiful Eudosia had
an intimate friend named Clara Caverly, who was as unlike her as
possible, in character, education, habits, and appearance; and yet who
was firmly her friend. The attachment was one of childhood and
accident--the two girls having been neighbors and school-fellows until
they had got to like each other, after the manner in which young people
form such friendships, to wear away under the friction of the world, and
the pressure of time. Mr. Caverly was a lawyer of good practice, fair