The black Lincoln that Mr. Bridge gave her on her 47th birthday was a size too long and she drove it as cautiously as she might have driven a locomotive. People were always blowing their horns at her or turning their heads to stare when they went by.

The property must belong to someone: I come upon berry patches and fruit trees in the general wildness, and tracks of cattle in the boggy grass by a stream, but there are no fences and the last farmhouse I passed was a mile away.

People all through the San Gabriel Valley will remember the summer of 1950: heat, smog and humidity made a hell of all these California cities and many deaths were imputed to it. Those who did not have to remain in the streets took cover behind drawn window shades and fanned 

The Massif has a perimeter of approximately one hundred and twenty miles and its rock face rises impregnable and sheer as a fortress to three thousand feet, and it dominates the departements of the Drôme and of Isere.

A light rain filtered through the huge elm trees and covered the park benches with a fine mist. Although it was a mild midsummer afternoon the rain had sent most of the bench sitters scurrying for cover, and a quiet air of desertion hung over the street. The street paralleled a city 

At first Ernestine was completely overwhelmed with the wonder of the nieces and nephews. As she remembered it, she had been like a dancer, moving gracefully from one side of the stage to the other, turning her well-shaped head, as if in search, trying to decide on which of the children 

At nine in the morning, when all was fresh, the starched uniforms of the nurses bustled more briskly, their curious caps sat more pertly, and the illusion of sanitation and good cheer bloomed on the fifth floor of the Private Pavilion more brightly than at any hour of the day.

You’d best not come right now. Alonzo is terribly excited about Theodore Roosevelt. He stays at the newspaper until all hours of the night. 

Belle had a scar on the third finger of her left hand. She was twenty-nine and unmarried—twice.

Now I walk back to the Manor House, on the path which runs back of peasant yards and barns, along the quite well-trodden path where everybody walks to avoid the mud of the main road.