March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland of moonshine.

She had looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend - as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.

I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.

She looked like a head-on collision between a fashion plate and a nightmare.

She wanted to be alone - to think things out - to adjust herself, if it were possible, to the new world in which she seemed to have been transplanted with a suddenness and completeness that left her half bewildered to her own identity.

And if you couldn't be loved, the next best thing was to be let alone.

Matthew, much to his own surprise, was enjoying himself. Like most quiet folks he liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of it.