Still, she would not have liked him to know she had taken as much pains as that, but she wished so she had invited him more cordially to come.
The tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped on the fair triangle of neck between the folds of her lace tucker; she was weeping for Jerome's hurt, but it seemed strangely like her own.

She was half-minded to go into the house and tell her mother all about it, repeat that miserable little dialogue between herself and Jerome, which was troubling her so, and let her decide as to whether she had been lacking in hospitality or not, and give her advice.

But she could not quite bring herself to do that.
The moon arose behind the house, she could not see it, but she knew it was there by the swarming of pale lights under the pine-trees, and the bristling of their tops as with needles of silver.

She heard a whippoorwill in the distance calling as from some undiscovered country; there was an undertone of frogs from marshy meadows swelling and dying in even cadences of sound.
Lucina's mother came to the door and put her hand on the girl's head.
"You must come in," she said; "your hair feels quite damp.

You will take cold.