She sat there one hot, dusty afternoon, alone and unusually tired.

The asphalted street was glaring and noisy, the cross street deep in soft dust, for months unwet.
Failure had not discouraged her, but increasing success with all its stimulus and satisfaction called for more and more power.

Her mind was busy foreseeing, arranging, providing for emergencies; and then the whole thing slipped away from her, she dropped her head upon her arm for a moment, on the edge of the tea table, and wished for Ross.
From down the street and up the street at this moment, two men were coming; both young, both tall, both good looking, both apparently approaching Union House.

One of them was the nearer, and his foot soon sounded on the wooden step.

The other stopped and looked in a shop window.
Diantha started up, came forward,--it was Mr.Eltwood.She had a vague sense of disappointment, but received him cordially.