“She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.”

“Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that Romance would come her way yet—never, until this wet, horrible morning, when she wakened to the fact that she was twenty-nine and unsought by any man. Ay, there lay the sting. Valancy did not mind so much being an old maid. After all, she thought, being an old maid couldn’t possibly be as dreadful as being married to an Uncle Wellignton or an Uncle Benjamin, or even an Uncle Herbert. What hurt her was that she had never had a chance to be anything but an old maid.”

“But she had long ago learned that when she wandered into the realm of fancy she must go alone. The way to it was by an enchanted path where not even her dearest might follow her.”

“Next to a mother she wanted a quiet place where she could be alone when she wanted to be; to listen to the wind telling her strange tales, or hold the big spotted shell that murmured of the sea to her ear, or talk to the roses in the garden.”

“She wanted to be alone - to think things out - to adjust herself, if it were possible, to the new world in which she seemed to have been transplanted with a suddenness and completeness that left her half bewildered to her own identity.”

“If only she were a boy, speeding in khaki by Carol's side to the western front! She had wished that in a burst of romance when Jem had gone, without perhaps, meaning it. She meant it now. There were moments when waiting at home, in safety and comfort, seemed an unendurable thing.”

“An hour ago on the sand-shore he has been looking at her as if she were the only being of any importance in the world. And now she was a nobody.”