that was not enough; Nancy and Bert worked it all out on paper,
and thought it more than sufficient. They always had a splendid
balance, on paper. Meanwhile, Mrs. Terhune went on refusing
Nancy's board now and then, and slipping bank-notes into Nancy's
purse now and then, and Bert continued to board with the southern
gentlewomen to whom he had paid ten dollars a week for three
years. He felt like a son in the Venables' house, by this time.

It was at the Venables' boarding-house, indeed, that he first had
met the dark-eyed and vivacious Nancy, who was intimate with the
faded daughters of the family, Miss Augusta and Miss Sally Anne.
When Nancy's Uncle Thomas came to the city for one of his
infrequent visits, she always placed him in Mrs. Venable's care.

Bert's first impression of her was of a supernaturally clever
person, hopelessly surrounded by "beaux." She had so many admirers
that even Miss Augusta, who had had a disappointment, warmed into
half-forgotten coquetries while she amused Bert, for whom Miss
Nancy had no time. They seemed to Bert, whose youth had known
responsibility and hardship, a marvellously happy and light-
hearted crowd. They laughed continuously, and they extracted from
the chameleon city pleasures that were wonderfully innocent and
fresh. It was as if these young exiles had brought from their
southern homes something of leisure, something of spaciousness and
pure sweetness that the more sophisticated youth of the city
lacked. Their very speech, softly slurred and lazy, held a charm
for Bert, used to his mother's and his aunts' crisp consonants. He
called Nancy "my little southern girl" in his heart, from the hour
he met her, and long afterward he told her that he had loved her
all that time.