I don't know how long I shall stay," Ellen replied.
"You are real kind, but I am not a bit afraid." "It is sort of lonesome going past the shops." "I can take a car," Ellen said.

She extended her hand to Granville, and he grasped it firmly.
"Good-night, Ellen; I am always glad of any good fortune that may come to you," he said.
But Granville Joy, going alone down the brilliant street, past the blaze of the shop-windows and the knots of loungers on the corners, reflected that he had seen the fiery tip of a cigar on the Lennox veranda, that it might be possible that young Lloyd was there, since Miss Lennox was his aunt, and that possibly the aunt's sending Ellen to Vassar might bring about something in that quarter which would not otherwise have happened, and he writhed at the fancy of that sort of good fortune for Ellen, but held his mind to it resolutely as to some terrible but necessary grindstone for the refinement of spirit.

"It would be a heap better for her," he said to himself, quite loud, and two men whom he was passing looked at him curiously.
"Drunk," said one to the other.
When he was on his homeward way he overtook a slender girl struggling along with a kerosene-can in one hand and a package of sugar in the other, and, seeing that it was Abby Atkins, he possessed himself of both.

She only laughed and did not start.

Abby Atkins was not of the jumping or screaming kind, her nerves were so finely balanced that they recovered their equilibrium, after surprises, before she had time for manifestations.