"At least it seems so to Charley," Mrs.Carr had hastened to add, "but you know how proud Charley is of all our newness.

He says there is not a street in the West that looks fresher or more beautiful than Monument Avenue, and I am sure that is a great comfort.

Cousin Jimmy says it shows what the South can do when it tries." "I'd like to go back," mused Gabriella, walking more and more slowly.

"I haven't been home for eighteen years, and I am thirty-eight to-day." With the fugitive sweetness of the hyacinths there rushed over her again the feeling that life was slipping, slipping, and that she was missing something infinitely precious, something infinitely desirable.

It was the panic of fleeting youth, of youth unsatisfied, denied, and still insatiable.
As she entered the gate she saw that O'Hara's windows were dark, and while a sigh of relief escaped her, she felt a swift contraction of her throat as if she had become suddenly paralyzed and was unable to swallow.