Explore "The Letters" by Edith Wharton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE fresh spring sunshine which had so often attended Lizzie Weston her dusty climb up the hill of St. -Cloud beamed on her, some two years later, in a scene and a situation of altered import.
The horse-chestnuts of the Champs-Elysees filtered its rays through the symmetrical umbrage inclosing the graveled space about Daurent's restaurant, and Miss West, seated at a table within that privileged circle, presented to the light a hat much better able to sustain its scrutiny than those which had sheltered the brow of Juliet Deering's instructress.