She Wanted Something To Happen - Something,

There Was A Dull Pang Of Regret Because It Was Not The Kiss Of Love Which Had Inflamed Her, Because It Was Not Love Which Had Held This Cup Of Life To Her Lips.

The Way To Become Rich Is To Make Money, Not To Save It.

He Greatly Valued His Possessions, Chiefly Because They Were His, And Derived Genuine Pleasure From Contemplating A Painting, A Statuette, A Rare Lace Curtain - No Matter What - After He Had Bought It And Placed It Among His Household Gods.

She Looked Into The Distance, And The Old Terror Flamed Up For An Instant, Then Sank Again. Edna Heard Her Father's Voice And Her Sister Margaret's. She Heard The Barking Of An Old Dog That Was Chained To The Sycamore Tree. The Spurs Of The Cavalry Officer Clanged As He Walked Across The Porch. There Was The Hum Of Bees, And The Musky Odor Of Pinks Filled The Air. (last Lines)

The Mother-women Seemed To Prevail That Summer At Grand Isle. It Was Easy To Know Them, Fluttering About With Extended, Protecting Wings When Any Harm, Real Or Imaginary, Threatened Their Precious Brood. They Were Women Who Idolized Their Children, Worshiped Their Husbands, And Esteemed It A Holy Privilege To Efface Themselves As Individuals And Grow Wings As Ministering Angels.