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Oh, Mr. Cuthbert,” she whispered, that place we came through–that white place–what was it?””Well now, you must mean the Avenue,” said Matthew after a few moments’ profound reflection. “It is a kind of pretty place.””Pretty? Oh, PRETTY doesn’t seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don’t go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful–wonderful. It’s the first thing I ever saw that couldn’t be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here”–she put one hand on her breast–“it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr. Cuthbert?””Well now, I just can’t recollect that I ever had.””I have it lots of time–whenever I see anything royally beautiful. But they shouldn’t call that lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should call it–let me see–the White Way of Delight. Isn’t that a nice imaginative name?
