There was a blue, waiting sea at the end and an old grey house fronting the sunset, so close to the purring waves that in storms their spray dashed over its very doorstep... a wise old house that knew many things, as Pat always felt. Mother’s old home and therefore to be loved, whether one could love the people in it or not.
I shall always be pointed at as the girl who flavored a cake with anodyne liniment.
I know they’ll take their knitting with them everywhere. They simply couldn’t be parted from it. They will walk about Westminster Abbey and knit, I feel sure.
Well, I don’t want to be any one but myself, even if I go uncomforted by diamonds all my life.
I think it would be charitable to believe that he was mistaken about.
Yesterday she had been all her own. Now she was this man’s.
Anne was a sweet-souled lass, but she could instill some venom into innocent italics when occasion required. “What.
Don’t you know ANY good husbands, Miss Bryant?” “Oh, yes, lots of them – over yonder,” said Miss Cornelia, waving her hand through the open window towards the little graveyard of the church across the harbor.
Somehow, things never are so good when they’re thought out a second time. Have you ever noticed that?
But trust one man to excuse another.
Well, James Matthew is a name that will wear well and not fade in the washing,” said Miss Cornelia. “I’m glad you didn’t load him down with some highfalutin, romantic name that he’d be ashamed of when he gets to be a grandfather...
Uncle Jim, if I wasn’t ME who’d I be?′ and, ‘Uncle Jim, what would happen if God died?
Still Anne said nothing, several times over.
Pat wanted to comfort him for something she did not understand. She slipped her little hand into his... he had a warm pleasant hand. They walked home together so.
And the coming of Anne – the vivid, imaginative, impetuous child with her heart of love, and her world of fancy, bringing with her color and warmth and radiance, until the wilderness of existence had blossomed like the rose.
Truly, the happiness certain things give us is never to be measured by their worldly importance.
Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.
No, darling. We’ve always known each other in Tomorrow,’ I said.
How dreadful it would be not to love a cat! How much one would miss out of life.
I’ve no doubt, enjoying himself same as ever. Just like a man.