"I don't know just what it is," she answered, lifting the rose to her face.

"Perhaps it is only the listening to that indistinct music.

It seems to have put all my soul in tune.

Oh, dear Mrs.Whittridge, what a beautiful world this is, when only there are no discords in one's own heart!" A day or two went by, and Phebe, though rapidly convalescing, was still a prisoner to her room.
"You're missing a lot of fun," said Bell Masters, sympathetically, as she bustled in to see her one morning, and sat down by the window, pushing back the curtain so that she could look out into the street and nod to passers as she talked.

"There's no end going on.