Then, looking up with Kate's queer smile: "It might hurt their feelings." "Why would it-- ?" "Oh, Wayneworth Jones! Why were you born with your brain cells screwed into question marks ?--and _why_ do I have to go through life getting them unscrewed ?" She actually read a paragraph; and as there she had to turn a page she looked over at Ann.

Ann's puppy had joined Worth's on the floor and together they were indulging in bites of puppyish delight at the little boy's legs, at each other's tails, at so much of the earth's atmosphere as came within range of their newly created jaws craving the exercise of their function.

Mad with the joy of living were those two collie pups on that essentially live and joyous morning.
And Ann, if not mad with the joy of living, seemed sensible of the wonder of it.

"Days in Florence" open on her lap, hands loose upon it, she was looking off at the river.

From hard thoughts of other days Kate could see her drawn to that day--its softness and sunshine, its breath of the river and breath of the trees.