I would lots rather have bought poor Mr. Carter the monument I have
been planning for months (to keep up conversation with Aunt Adeline)
than wear that dress again. I felt conscience reprove me once more with
loyalty looking on in disapproval as I buttoned the old thing up for
the last time, because I really ought to have stayed a day longer to
buy that monument, but--to tell the truth I wanted to see Billy so
desperately that his "sleep-place" above my heart hurt as if it might
have prickly heat break out at any minute.

So I hurried and stuffed the grey-blue darling in the top tray, lapped
the old black silk around my waist and belted it in with a black belt
off a new green linen I had bought for morning walks--down to the
butcher's in the High Street, I suppose. That is about the only morning
dissipation in Hillsboro that I can think of, and it all depends on whom
you meet, how much of a dissipation it is.

The next thing that happens after you have done a noble deed is, you
either regard it as a reward of virtue or as a punishment for having
been foolish. I felt both ways when Judge Wade came down the platform at
St. Pancras, looking so much grander than any other man in sight that I
don't see how they ever stand him. At that minute the noble black-silk
deed felt foolish, but at the next minute I was glad I had done it.

It is nice to watch for a person to catch sight of you if you feel sure
how they are going to take it, and somehow in this case I felt sure. I
was not disappointed, for his smile broke his face up into a joy-laugh.
Off came his hat instantly so I could catch a glimpse of the fascinating
frost over his temples, and with a positive sigh of pleasure he got into
the same carriage and took a seat beside me. I turned with an echo smile