Edith Wharton

“ She was slight and light, with a natural ease and quickness of gait, but she could not recall having run a yard since she had romped with Owen in his school-days; nor did she know what impulse moved her now. She only knew that run she must, that no other motion, short of flight, would have been buoyant enough for her humour. She seemed to be keeping pace with some inward rhythm, seeking to give bodily expression to the lyric rush of her thoughts. The earth always felt elastic under her, and she had a conscious joy in treading it; but never had it been as soft and springy as today. ”

“ Her interest in Owen led her to think more often of his mother, and sometimes she would slip away and stand alone before her predecessor's portrait. Since her arrival at Givre the picture--a "full-length" by a once fashionable artist--had undergone the successive displacements of an exiled consort removed farther and farther from the throne; and Anna could not help noting that these stages coincided with the gradual decline of the artist's fame. ”

“ She dropped her gaze and began to walk on slowly. "I can't say you've convinced me of the wisdom of the step. Only I seem to see that other things matter more--and that not missing things matters most. Perhaps I've changed--or YOUR not changing has convinced me. I'm certain now that you won't budge. And that was really all I ever cared about."
"Oh, as to not budging--I told you so months ago: you might have been sure of that! And how can you be any surer today than yesterday?"
"I don't know. I suppose one learns something every day---- "
"Not at Givre!" ”