There is something sensual in the thought of lotus flowers. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. The world isn’t ready for girls to start out on their own yet; that’s the plain fact of the case.
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