A woman wants to see something out of the window and from the doorstep besides flowers and box and trees." Sylvia glared at the yard, which was beautiful.

The box grew lustily, framing beds of flowers and clusters of radiant bushes.

There were two perfectly symmetrical horse-chestnut-trees, one on each side of the broad gravel walk.

The yard looked like some wonderful map wherein the countries were made of flowers, the design was so charmingly artificial and prim.
"It's awful set, I think," said Sylvia.

"I'd rather have flowers growing where they want to instead of where they have to.