"How do you do, dear?"
"I don't know," said Winnie. "I am not very well now-a-days."
"And Mannahatta is hot and dusty and disagreeable — more than any place you ever were in before in your life, isn't it?"
"I don't care," said Winnie. "I'd rather be with Winthrop."
"And can he make up for dust and heat and bad air and all?"
The smile that broke upon Winnie's face Elizabeth remembered was like that of old time; there was a sparkle in the eyes that looked up at her, the lips had their childish play, and the thin cheek even shewed its dimple again. As she met the look, Elizabeth's own face grew grave and her brow fell; and it was half a minute before she spoke.
"But he cannot be with you a great deal of the time."
"O yes he is," said Winnie; — "he is here in the morning, and at breakfast and dinner and tea, and all the evening. And all Sundays."
"That's the best day of the week then, I suppose."
"It's always that," said Winnie. "And he takes a great many walks with me — every day almost, when it gets cool — we go down on the Green and stay there as long as it's pleasant."