Isn't it mysterious to begin a new journal like this? I can run my fingers through the fresh clean pages but I cannot guess what the writing on them will be.

Do you girls have hope chests?' Lloyd asked. We certainly do.' I don't,' said Betsy. 'My husband and I are going to use paper plates and napkins.' Poor Joe!' Lucky Larry!

One strain could call up the quivering expectancy of Christmas Eve, childhood, joy and sadness, the lonely wonder of a star

I'm finished with something, but I'm not beginning anything. That's wrong. When you finish something, you ought always to begin something new.

Betsy returned to her chair, took off her coat and hat, opened her book and forgot the world again.

Was life always like that? she wondered. A game of hide and seek in which you only occasionally found the person you wanted to be?

She thought of the library, so shining white and new; the rows and rows of unread books; the bliss of unhurried sojourns there and of going out to a restaurant, alone, to eat.