"Goodness, she's reading from that book that is selling so,--_The Poor Lady_--I remember every word of that chapter." Then while Margaret continued her reading imperturbably, the chorus of whispers increased.

"That is from _The Poor Lady_, yes, it is.

Did she write it?
Why, of course, she did.

She just said so.

Isn't it wonderful that she has done such a thing ?" Wilbur Edes sat with his eyes riveted upon his wife's face, his own gone quite pale, but upon it an expression of surprise and joy so intense that he looked almost foolish from such a revelation of his inner self.
The young girl beside him drove hair pins frantically into her hair.
She twisted up a lock which had strayed and fastened it.