Isabel Ostrander,
The Island of Intrigue — Chapter 6
(1918)
“ I had suddenly remembered what Lorna had said the afternoon of our arrival when we had that little talk in her summer den, about depending wholly on one's self. "On yourself, and the people about you," he spoke reflectively, as if he were thinking aloud. "We all need companionship, of one sort or another, I suppose. Underneath the substrata of conventions, we're a sociable lot, we humans." ”
Isabel Ostrander,
The Island of Intrigue — Chapter 6
(1918)
“ The little dog was such a ridiculous Man Friday, and the young man was far from the gaunt, tattered Robinson Crusoe of my picture books. He was looking straight at me. I could feel it, although my eyes were on that crab, which was fast approaching. The little dog saw me, too, and bounded forward,—wagging his absurd stump of a tail in the friendliest way."Come here, sir!" the young man ordered, adding as he drew nearer, "I beg your pardon. I hope the dog hasn't hurt your gown jumping up on it like that. He's no respector of persons." ”
Isabel Ostrander,
The Island of Intrigue — Chapter 6
(1918)
“ His tone was meditatively impersonal, and I breathed more freely. "With us, our young girls think of him, dream of him, await his coming with eager impatience, but you Americans—you invent for yourselves other interests, other excuses for your existence. Your lives are too full of borrowed things, you shut the doors of your busy homes in the face of the little god who pauses on your threshold." ”
