The coral pink in her cheeks deepened to a flush; she lowered her eye-lashes and averted her look.
"The flowers are banked with straw, the perennials," she said, to prevent a silence.
"I shall come and see them when they're blooming again," he stated.
"The more I recall them, the more beautiful it seems they were--yes, and the orchard, too, and the grassy canals, and the sunshine that day.

And you in the picture--the centre of the picture, Louise.

The impressions one retains that stand out vividly in the mind are few: that is one of the number for me.

But perhaps not for you." "Oh, for me also," she exclaimed.
Bryant stared at her round forearms and hands lying on her lap, but without observing them.

He had marked the quick sincerity of her response.