She had behind her garishness a gift for sympathy and a keen intuition, delicacy, and allusiveness.

She knew what to say and what to leave unsaid, when her heart was moved.
"My darling," she said now, "you are not quite happy; but that is because you don't allow yourself to get well.

You've never recovered from your attack last summer; and you won't, until you come out into the world again and see people.

This autumn you ought to have been at Homburg or at Aix, where you'd take a little cure of waters and a great deal of cure of people.

You were born to bask in friendship and the sun, and to draw from the world as much as you deserve, a little from many, for all you give in return.