Dalton was
proposing that they go in and they promptly joined the stream of entering
guests. Randolph soon found them and presented them to Mrs. Curtis,
a large woman of middle years, and dignified manner, related to nearly
all the old families of Virginia, and a descendant of a collateral branch
of the Washingtons. Her husband, William Curtis, seemed to be of a
different type, a man of sixty, tall, thin and more reserved than most
Southerners of his time. His thin lips were usually compressed and his
pale blue eyes were lacking in warmth. But the long strong line of his
jaw showed that he was a man of strength and decision.
"A Northern bough on a Southern tree," whispered Dalton, as they passed
on. "He comes from some place up the valley and they say that the North
itself has not his superior in financial skill."
"I did not warm to him at first," said Harry, "but I respect him.
As you know, George, we've put too little stress upon his kind of
ability. We'll need him and more like him when the Confederacy is
established. We'll have to build ourselves up as a great power, and
that's done by trade and manufactures more than by arms."
"It's so, Harry. But listen to that music!"
A band of four pieces placed behind flowers and shrubbery was playing.
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