She smiled to herself as she swung briskly through the quiet streets.

Their approbation had quickened her spirit to put forth fresh effort.

She felt as though she could remove mountains if they happened to rise suddenly in her path.

And in this state of mental exhilaration she ran up the steps of Harlowe House and, after a second's fumbling with her latchkey, let herself in.
It was almost six o'clock in the afternoon, and the darkness of early January had settled down upon the landscape.

A wet, discouraging snow, which made the streets a slush-covered menace to pedestrians, was falling, and Grace gave a soft sigh of satisfaction as she stepped into the cheery, well-lighted hall.