The girl patted from her skirts the hammock's little disarranging touches, while the youth again made the careful folds in his hat.

Then they shook hands very stiffly, and went opposite ways out of a formal garden of farewell; the youth to sate that beautiful, crude young lust for living--too fierce to be tamed save by its own failures, hearing only the sagas of action, of form and colour and sound made one by heat--the song Nature sings unendingly--but heard only by young ears.
The girl went back to the Crealock piazza to hear of one better set in the grace of faith.
"That elder young Linford," began Aunt Bell, ceasing to rock, "has a future.

You know I talked to him about the Episcopal Church, strongly advising him to enter it.

For all my broad views"-- Aunt Bell sighed here--"I really and truly believe, child, that no one not an Episcopalian is ever thoroughly at ease in this world." Aunt Bell was beautifully, girlishly plump, with a sophisticated air of smartness--of coquetry, indeed--as to her exquisitely small hands and feet; and though a certain suggestion of melancholy in her tone harmonised with the carefully dressed gray hair and with her apparent years, she nevertheless breathed airs of perfect comfort.
"Of course this young chap could see at once," she went on, "what immensely better form it is than Calvinism.

_Dear_ me! Imagine one being a Presbyterian in this day!" It seemed here that the soul of Aunt Bell poised a disdainful lorgnette before its eyes, through which to survey in a fitting manner the unmodish spectacle of Calvinism.
"And he tells me that he has his grandfather's consent.