This happy,
care-free, sun-flooded life was not for her, how far, far, far from her,
indeed! She was here only by accident, tolerated gayly for hospitality's
sake, her coming and going only an insignificant episode in their lives.
Wistfully she watched Mrs. Toland tying little Constance's sash and
straightening her flower-crowned hat for church; wistfully eyed the
cheerful, white-clad Chinese cook, grinning as he went to gather
lettuces; wistfully she stared across the brilliant garden from her deep
porch chair. Barbara, in conference with a capped and aproned maid at
the end of a sunny corridor, Sally chatting with Richie, as she
straightened the scattered books on the library table, Ted dashing off a
popular waltz with her head turned carelessly aside to watch the
attentive Keith; all these to Julia were glimpses of a life so free, so
full, so invigorating as to fill her with hopeless longing and
admiration.
All her affectation and arrogance dropped from her before their simple,
joyous naturalness. Julia had no feeling of wishing to impress them, to
assert her own equality. Instead she genuinely wanted them to like her;
she carried herself like the little girl she looked in her sailor
blouse, like the little girl she was.
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