People who mattered could not take the humdrum world. But this was not the world, it was enchantment; and all of it was mine.

I could not ask forgiveness for something I had not done. As scapegoat, I could only bear the fault.

I thought of all those heroines of fiction who looked pretty when they cried, and what a contrast I must make with a blotched and swollen face, and red rims to my eyes.

This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. To-day we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the same again.

Watch that boy. He's going to startle somebody someday.

The moment of crisis had come, and I must face it. My old fears, my diffidence, my shyness, my hopeless sense of inferiority, must be conquered now and thrust aside. If I failed now I should fail forever.

Every moment was a precious thing, having in it the essence of finality.