"We've certainly been racing downhill these last few years.

Where the Wilmots used to be about the only silly people in town, there are scores of families now with noses in the air and eyes looking eagerly about for chances to snub.

But, on the other hand, there's the university, and Arthur--and Dory." She dismissed Lorry and Estelle and Saint X's fashionable strivings and, in the library, sat down to compose a letter to Dory--no easy task in those days, when there were seething in her mind and heart so much that she longed to tell him but ought not, so much that she ought to tell but could not.
Lorry had acted as if he were about to depart, while Adelaide was there; he resumed his seat on the steps at Estelle's feet as soon as she disappeared.

"I suppose I ought to go," said he, with a humorous glance up at her face with its regular features and steadfast eyes.
She ran her slim fingers through his hair, let the tips of them linger an instant on his lips before she took her hand away.
"I couldn't let you go just yet," said she slowly, absently.

"This is the climax of the day.