Chapter 13

And I know Mr. Kipling is getting old-fashioned, and I know I may be sentimental--but that thing makes me feel as if all life were a parade with flags in the sunshine and drums ruffling and somewhere a sound of cheering in the distance. . . . * * * * * It would have been more fortunate, perhaps, if I had fallen in love with someone nearer my own age, with more nearly my own background, some man at Harvard who was a senior when I was a sophomore. But all the young men who were suitable and fe…