” The suitcase loomed in her memory, making its presence felt once again. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. “I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna,” she said hesitatingly. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. She realized in a moment what had happened. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it.
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