She had made up her young mind absolutely that she would not, if it were decently possible to avoid it, set her foot upon English soil until she was old enough and strong enough to carry out what had been at first her passionately romantic plans for discovering and facing the truth of the reason for the apparent change in Rosy.

When she went to England, she would go to Rosy.

As she had grown older, having in the course of education and travel seen most Continental countries, she had liked to think that she had saved, put aside for less hasty consumption and more delicate appreciation of flavours, as it were, the country she was conscious she cared for most.
"It is England we love, we Americans," she had said to her father.

"What could be more natural?
We belong to it--it belongs to us.

I could never be convinced that the old tie of blood does not count.