Jane Field stood before her little mirror, brushed her gray hair in smooth curves around her ears, and pinned her black woollen dress with a gold-rimmed brooch containing her dead sister's and her husband's hair.
Lois, before her own glass, twisted up her pretty hair carefully; she pulled a few curly locks loose on her temples, thinking half indignantly and shamefacedly how she should see that young man again.
Lois was bewildered and terrified, borne down by reflected guilt, almost as if it were her own.

She had a wild dread of this going out to tea, meeting more strangers, and seeing her mother act out a further lie; but she could not help being a young girl, and arranging those little locks on her forehead for Francis Arms to see.
When she and her mother stepped out of the door, a strong wind came in their faces.
"Wait a minute," said Mrs.Field.She went back into the house and got Lois's sack.

"Put this on," said she.
And Lois put it on.
The wind was from the east, and had the salt smell of the sea.

All the white-flowering bushes in the yards and the fruit trees bowed toward the west.

There was a storm of white petals.