minondas in his native country. That Lucia envied—the power of taking pleasure in infinitesimal things like this. Why should Aunt Cathie have that gift, and not she? Fancy being able to like looking at photographs! If so mean a form of entertainment pleased her, she felt she would be happier than the length of summer days.
Another thing, too, she envied. Aunt Cathie was so much gentler, so much less abrupt and brusque than she used to be. The passage of the years, like the hours of summer suns, seemed to have mellowed her. And Lucia was conscious that no such mellowing was taking place in herself; she knew herself to be harder than she used to be, less indulgent of people who were tiresome, less easily pleased.
And then she remembered that new interest which had come into her life yesterday. She was sure that Charlie loved her. What a dreadful situation! And how intensely interesting!
