The Oliver Optic books still lay in the attic, all tattered and torn, but to Margaret the embodiment of prospective riches, promises of sweet hours to come.

She knew Monty well enough to feel that he would not forget the dark little attic of old for all the splendors that might come with the new dispensation.
There was no little surprise when he sent out invitations for a large dinner.

His grandfather had been dead less than a month, and society was somewhat scandalized by the plain symptoms of disrespect he was showing.

No one had expected him to observe a prolonged season of mourning, but that he should disregard the formalities completely was rather shocking.

Some of the older people, who had not long to live and who had heirs-apparent, openly denounced his heartlessness.