"I shall see you again." Crossing the pavement with a rapid step, he entered the gate and ran up the steps to the porch between the white columns.

As he passed into the richly tempered glow of the hall, it seemed to him that an invisible force, an aroma of the past, drifted out of the old house and enveloped him like the sweetness of flowers.

He was caught again, he was submerged, in the spirit of race.
A little later, when he was passing his mother's door, he glanced in and saw her standing before the mirror in her evening gown of gray silk, with the foam-like ruffles of rose-point on her bosom and at her elbows, which were still round and young looking.
Catching his reflection in the glass, she called out in her crisp tones, "My dear boy, where on earth have you been?
You know we promised to dine with Julia, and then to go to those tableaux for the benefit of the children in Vienna.

She has worked so hard to make them a success that she would never forgive us if we stayed away." "Yes, I know.

I had forgotten," he replied.