In a month the uncle married the girl.

She brought him thirty thousand dollars." Fleda knew that this man who had fired her spirit for the first time had told his childhood story to show her the view he took of her origin; but she did not like him less for that, though she seemed to feel a chasm between them still.

The new things moving in her were like breezes that stir the trees, not like the wind turning the windmill which grinds the corn.

She had scarcely yet begun to grind the corn of life.
She did not know where she was going, what she would find, or where the new trail would lead her.

The Past dogged her footsteps, hung round her like the folds of a garment.