Spring had passed over it with her magical touch, and she had decorated the spot she could no longer restore.

The scent of box filled the air, and little new green leaves had put out on the dusky windings of the maze.
As Abel approached, Molly was moving slowly away from him, her long black skirt, which had been made to fit Mrs.Gay, trailing over the snowdrops in the path.

When she turned at the end of the walk, there was the faintest hesitancy in her manner before she came forward with a smile and an outstretched hand.

In some subtle way she had changed--he felt it before she reached him--before she uttered a word.

He had never seen her in a long dress until to-day; and in putting on Mrs.Gay's gown she seemed to have clothed herself in that lady's appealing and pensive manner.