In Broadway, moving onward with the other workers who were returning to the day's work, she was aware of an invisible current of joy which flowed from the crowd into her thoughts and through her thoughts back again into the crowd.

For the first time she was feeling and thinking in unison with the multitude.
That night, when she sat alone with Miss Polly, she said to her suddenly: "I believe I was wrong to wish Archibald not to see anything of Mr.
O'Hara.

Yesterday we had a long talk, and I think he must have some very fine traits." "Maybe," replied Miss Polly, a little snappishly.

"I never could see what set you so against him, Gabriella." "Oh, he is dreadfully slangy, and, of course, he isn't educated.

I suppose if I mentioned Hamlet to him, he'd think I was talking about some town in Oklahoma." "Well, I reckon he's been his own Hamlet," retorted Miss Polly; "and knowing about Hamlet don't make a man, anyhow.