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Excerpt from The Las' Day
I was a summer visitor in the little village, and had passed the house a score of times with no feeling of curiosity as to its inhabitants, their number, age, or sex. To me the grayness and monotony of color seemed typical of their lives. They had peace, but it was the peace and quiet of stagnation. No vain desire of un known things puzzled their breasts. The world with its storm and stress did not touch them in this quiet country-side. They were content to live their little day knowing nothing of the greater issues at stake, secure and calm as the cattle graz ing under the trees, and with no more thought than they. A dull, uneventful life, and the gray house seemed a fit shelter for the folk who called it home.
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