"I should say not."
"And then, watching your career, Nancibel, dear, I live over my own life. Think of it, dear, when I was young in those years after the rebellion ... Mary Ann, Miss Taylor will take her coffee in the other room."
"Yessum."
Aunt M. got to her feet, brushing a few crumbs off her silk dress and went through the portieres into the parlor. Nan glanced at herself in the mirror over the mantel as she followed. How pale I look tonight, she thought.
"When I was young in those years after the rebellion, Boston was a very busy place. And we were all so sanguine for the future. But now, even if I were strong enough, I would go out very little. It all seems so strange and ugly to me. And where is it going, this hideous chase after money?"
"I find a sort of splendor in it," said Nan brutally. They sat side by side on the curvebacked sofa, Nan with a small coffee cup in one hand.
"I'm happier indoors. But even here there's no real peace. The traffic on Beacon Street is so distressing."
"Marblehead would be a nice place to live."
"O, no, you wouldn't have me leave this house, would you, Nancibel, dear? This is my home. Do you remember in Mr. Emerson's poem..."
Why seek Italy?
Who cannot circumnavigate the sea
Of thoughts and things at home?