young Doc's blighted love; over Miss Princess's wanting to "back
out"; over old Mrs. Greenleaf's strange, dominant "pride."

Why did Miss Princess want to "back out"?--Miss Princess with her
beautiful coppery hair, and eager parted lips, and eyes of
mysterious purple (Missy lingered on the reflection "eyes of
mysterious purple" long enough to foreshadow a future poem including
that line). Was it because she still loved Doc? If so, why didn't it
turn out all right, since Doc loved her, too? Surely that would be
better, since there seemed to be something wrong with Mr. Hackett--
even though everybody did talk about what a wonderful match he was.
Then they talked about invitations and things as though old Mrs.
Greenleaf thought those things counted for more than the bridegroom.
Old Mrs. Greenleaf, Missy was sure, loved Miss Princess better than
anything else in the world: then how could she, even if she was
"proud," twist things so foolishly?

She had brought with her the blue-bound Anthology and a writing-pad
and pencil. First she read a little--"Lochinvar" it was she opened
to. Then she meditated. Poor Young Doc! The whole unhappy situation
was like poetry. (So much in life she was finding, these days, like
poetry.) This would make a very sad, but effective poem: the
faithful, unhappy lover, the lovely, unhappy bride, the mother
keeping them asunder who, though stern, was herself unhappy, and the
craven bridegroom who--she hoped it, anyway!--was unhappy also.

In all this unhappiness, though she didn't suspect it, Missy
revelled--a peculiar kind of melancholy tuned to the golden day. She
detected a subtle restlessness in the shimmering leaves about her;
the scent of the June roses caught at something elusively sad in