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“In an upper room two women sat looking out at the rain. The younger held the hand of the elder; but in this room also there was silence. They were silent, for they had seen their old life crumble like a swallow's nest in the rain, and they had not yet seen the possibility of any new life rise before them. So they sat and looked at the rain, and it seemed that there was nothing for them to do but go forward forever and ever the rain beating about them, their feet deep down in a drift of dead leaves.” — S.R. Crockett
In an upper room two women sat looking out at the rain. The younger held the hand of the elder; but in this room also there was silence. They were silent, for they had seen their old life crumble like a swallow's nest in the rain, and they had not yet seen the possibility of any new life rise before them. So they sat and looked at the rain, and it seemed that there was nothing for them to do but go forward forever and ever the rain beating about them, their feet deep down in a drift of dead leaves.