Anthony Hope

“ Winifred knew that the delicate gray became her well, and that Harold would think her looking very pretty; and she was going to see her home and his. Her face was bright as she kissed her father and jumped down from the dog-cart; but he sighed when she had left him, and his brow was wrinkled as he drove Jennie back. He felt himself growing rather old; "some day" did not seem quite as remote as it used, and pretty Winnie—well, there was no use in crying over it now. Wilful girls must have their way ”

“ Harold, who had made the journey before, paid no heed to the route, but talked freely of delightful hours which they were to enjoy together, of books to read and thoughts to think, and of an intimate sympathy which, near as they were already to one another, the home and the home life alone could enable them fully to realize. Winifred listened; but far down in her mind now was another question, hardly easier to stifle than that about the frock. "Where are we going to?" ”

“ THE GRAY FROCK
THE rights and wrongs of the matter are perhaps a little obscure, and it is possible to take his side as well as hers. Or perhaps there is really no question of sides at all—no need to condemn anybody; only another instance of the difficulty people have in understanding one another's point of view. But here, with a few lines added by way of introduction, are the facts as related in her obviously candid and sincere narrative.
Miss Winifred Petheram's father had an income from landed estates of about five thousand a year, and spent, say, six or thereabouts ”

“ At last they turned by a sharp twist from a long narrow street into a short narrower street, where a wagon by the curbstone forced the cab to a walk, and shrill boys were playing an unintelligible noisy game.
"What queer places we pass through!" ”