“ The warm, pulsing breath of the sweet grass surged through the open windows in a fashion to turn the head of a stone image. It was exotic, too sweet, exaggerated, like everything else in this climate!… Henry S. Whitehead
“ Some daughter of one of the gentry planters, perhaps? Those girls had the domestic virtues. But — he was comfortable enough with his good servants at Fairfield House. His yearnings had little relation… Henry S. Whitehead
“ His new friends did not, perhaps, realize the overpowering effect of the sudden change upon this northernbred man; the effects of the moonlight and the soft trade-wind, the life of love which surround… Henry S. Whitehead
