She did not wish to feel as she did about her home and the things that made the world of those she loved.
She had tried honestly to still the unrest and to deny the longing.

She had wished many times, since her return from the East, that she had never left her home for those three years in school.

And yet, those years had meant much to her; they had been wonderful years; but they seemed, somehow--now that they were past and she was home again--to have brought her only that unrest and longing.
From the beginning of her years until that first great crisis in her life--her going away to school--this world into which she was born had been to Kitty an all-sufficient world.

The days of her childhood had been as carefree and joyous, almost, as the days of the young things of her father's roaming herds.

As her girlhood years advanced, under her mother's wise companionship and careful teaching, she had grown into her share of the household duties and into a knowledge of woman's part in the life to which she belonged, as naturally as her girlish form had put on the graces of young womanhood.