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 "Say, rather, an acquaintance of mine," was the reply.

Cherokee felt that she had no such thing as a friend. She who had been petted and admired saw the change now; the cordial hand held back, the friendly, confidential glance replaced by frowns of almost fierce suspicion and reproach. She observed a gradual but marked difference in her friends' demeanor toward her. Her greetings were received coldly, though sometimes with scrupulous politeness. Groups began to melt insensibly away at her approach, or her advent was a signal for dead silence.

The young women were frigid; the old ones were more so, and systematically cut her dead, and were often heard to say: "They had always thought there was something very queer about this woman."