"But I don't know whether it's going to bind us, or not." "And you so awfully young!" "I was," said Joan.
The girl who had never had any luck darted a keen, examining glance at the girl who had all the appearance of having been born lucky.

Married, as pretty as a picture, everything out of the smartest shops, the owner, probably, of this hill and those woods, and the old house that she had peeped at all among that lovely garden--she couldn't have come up against life's sharp elbow, surely?
She hoped not, most awfully she hoped not.
Joan caught the look and smiled back.

There was kindness here, and comradeship.

"I've nothing to tell," she said, "yet.

I'm just beginning to think, that's the truth, only just.