Farther along on the wall were a colored calendar and numerous colored advertisements and sketches torn out of magazines.

Most of these sketches were of horses.
From the gas-fixture hung a tangled bunch of well-scribbled dance programs.
Saxon started to take off her hat, but suddenly sat down on the bed.
She sobbed softly, with considered repression, but the weak-latched door swung noiselessly open, and she was startled by her sister-in-law's voice.
"NOW what's the matter with you?
If you didn't like them beans--" "No, no," Saxon explained hurriedly.

"I'm just tired, that's all, and my feet hurt.

I wasn't hungry, Sarah.

I'm just beat out." "If you took care of this house," came the retort, "an' cooked an' baked, an' washed, an' put up with what I put up, you'd have something to be beat out about.