I hadn't noticed what you were talking about." "It's nothing," she laughed.

"Only a funny old lady--and she's gone now.
I'm going, too--at least, I'm going indoors to read.

It's cooler in the house, but the heat's really not bad anywhere, since nightfall.

Summer's dying.

How quickly it goes, once it begins to die." When she had gone into the house, Fanny stopped rocking, and, leaning forward, drew her black gauze wrap about her shoulders and shivered.
"Isn't it queer," she said drearily, "how your mother can use such words ?" "What words are you talking about ?" George asked.
"Words like 'die' and 'dying.' I don't see how she can bear to use them so soon after your poor father--" She shivered again.
"It's almost a year," George said absently, and he added: "It seems to me you're using them yourself." "I?
Never!" "Yes, you did." "When ?" "Just this minute." "Oh!" said Fanny.