CHAPTER VIIBut spring began to come to Mount Holly, coquettishly and slowly, as is the fashion of spring in New Jersey; but with an infinite sweetness and graciousness, and with spring several elements as cold as the winter winds, and as hard as the packed snows, began to soften and to melt in several human hearts.
One of these hearts was Violet Vanderwort’s. She drew Craig Spaulding aside, at a certain February dinner, and said to him very softly, with her eyes dropped to the little hand she laid on his forearm:
“Craig. I don’t want to see too much of you now for awhile. You and I have got to go different places, and not even think about each other!”
“What have I done, Vi?” Craig asked, after a pause.
“You?” She flashed him a look, looked down again.
“No,” she said, in a low voice, “
