It all seemed inconceivable, silly and futile to him, what he had done, and what they were doing.

He cast a furious glance at them as he passed out, but neither noticed it.
Wollaston said something, and Maria laughed an inane little giggle which was still musical, and trilled through the car.

Maria's cheeks were burning, and she seldom looked at the boy at her side, but oftener at the young autumn landscape through which they were passing.

The trees had scarcely begun to turn, but here and there one flamed out like a gold or red torch among the green, and all the way-sides were blue and gold with asters and golden-rod.

It was a very warm morning for the season.