Moreover, these two young people were strangers to each other; neither had said anything in which the other had discovered the slightest intrinsic interest; there had not arisen between them the beginnings of congeniality, or even of friendliness--but stairways near ballrooms have more to answer for than have moonlit lakes and mountain sunsets.

Some day the laws of glamour must be discovered, because they are so important that the world would be wiser now if Sir Isaac Newton had been hit on the head, not by an apple, but by a young lady.
Age, confused by its own long accumulation of follies, is everlastingly inquiring, "What does she see in him ?" as if young love came about through thinking--or through conduct.

Age wants to know: "What on earth can they talk about ?" as if talking had anything to do with April rains! At seventy, one gets up in the morning, finds the air sweet under a bright sun, feels lively; thinks, "I am hearty, today," and plans to go for a drive.

At eighteen, one goes to a dance, sits with a stranger on a stairway, feels peculiar, thinks nothing, and becomes incapable of any plan whatever.

Miss Morgan and George stayed where they were.
They had agreed to this in silence and without knowing it; certainly without exchanging glances of intelligence--they had exchanged no glances at all.