Explore "Virginia" by Ellen Glasgow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Father, I want to marry John Henry," said Susan, just as she had said almost ten years ago, "Father, I want to go to college."
It was a March afternoon, ashen and windy, with flocks of small fleecy clouds hurrying across a changeable blue sky, and the vague, roving scents of early spring in the air. After his dinner, which he had taken for more than fifty years precisely at two o'clock, Cyrus had sat down for a peaceful pipe on the back porch before returning to the office. Between the sunken bricks in the little walled-in yard, blades of vivid green grass had shot up, seeking light out of darkness, and along the grey wooden ledge of the area the dauntless sunflowers were unfolding their small stunted leaves. On the railing of the porch a moth-eaten cat -- the only animal for whom Cyrus entertained the remotest respect -- was contentedly licking the shabby fur on her side.