The Daughters of the Little Grey House by Marion Ames Taggart

“How do you know when you’re a young lady?” asked Roberta Grey.
She was sitting before the ancient mahogany dressing-table in her—and Wythie’s—room, unblushingly regarding herself in the mirror, while the fingers of both hands, supporting her brilliant face, experimented with changes in it by pushing up the delicate eyebrows into quite a celestial angle.