"I feel somehow as if I belonged up here with you all, and I've grown real fond of Archibald." "Yes, I'd hate to give you up," said Gabriella, as she let her go and turned back again into the room.

Her brain had worked quickly while Miss Polly was talking, and the undercurrent of gossip had helped, rather than retarded, the clearness and rapidity of her thoughts.

All her weakness, all her anger had passed.

She saw the situation without exaggeration and without illusion, for she had made her decision in the few minutes between the entrance and the departure of the seamstress.
The embittering memories of her life with George were submerged in the invigorating waves of energy that flooded her being.

Her inert body responded to the miraculous restoration of her spirit; and, while she walked swiftly from the door to the window, she had a sensation of lightness and ease as if she had just awakened from a refreshing sleep.
For seven years all the strength of her character had been drained by the supreme function of motherhood; but now her children had ceased to need the whole of her life, and she was free to belong at least in part to herself--free to enter unrestricted into the broader human activities.