She must be ready to run gaily down to the door at the most casual
interruption; leaving Agnes to finish Priscilla's bath just
because Seward Smith felt in a mood to come and discuss the
fairness of golf handicaps with his pretty, sensible neighbour.
She did not realize that she had been happier years ago, when
every step Junior and Ned and Anne took was with Mother's hand for
guide, but she often found herself thinking of those days with a
sort of wistful pain at her heart. Life had had a flavour then
that it somehow lacked now. She had been tired, she had been too
busy. But what richness the memories had; memories of three small
heads about a kitchen table, memories of limp little socks and
crumpled little garments left like dropped petals in Mother's lap,
at the end of the long day.
"Are we the same people?" mused Nancy. "Have I really my car and
my man; is it the same old Bert whose buckskin pumps and whose
silk handkerchiefs are imitated by all these rich men? No wonder
we've lost our bearings a little, we've gone ahead--if it IS
ahead--too fast!"
They were getting from life, she mused, just what everyone wanted
to get from life; home, friends, children, amusement.
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