Th' Longest Lane Will Have A Turning.

Mr. Thornton Felt That In This Influx No One Was Speaking To Margaret, And Was Restless Under This Apparent Neglect. But He Never Went Near Her Himself; He Did Not Look At Her. Only, He Knew What She Was Doing — Or Not Doing — Better Than Anyone Else In The Room. Margaret Was So Unconscious Of Herself, And So Much Amused By Watching Other People, That She Never Thought Whether She Was Left Unnoticed Or Not.

A Man Is So In The Way In The House.

There Was A Filmy Veil Of Soft Dull Mist Obscuring, But Not Hiding, All Objects, Giving Them A Lilac Hue, For The Sun Had Not Yet Fully Set; A Robin Was Singing ... The Leaves Were More Gorgeous Than Ever; The First Touch Of Frost Would Lay Them All Low To The Ground. Already One Or Two Kept Constantly Floating Down, Amber And Golden In The Low Slanting Sun-rays.

There Is Nothing Like Wounded Affection For Giving Poignancy To Anger.

Out Of The Way! We Are In The Throes Of An Exceptional Emergency! This Is No Occassion For Sport- There Is Lace At Stake!" (ms. Pole)