“not the old trees, not even the old memories. Clustering traditions had fled in the white blaze of electricity; the quaint brick walks, with their rich colour in the sunlight, were beginning to disappear beneath the expressionless mask of concrete.… — Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow Copy Share Image
“not the old trees, not even the old memories. Clustering traditions had fled in the white blaze of electricity; the quaint brick walks, with… — Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow Copy Share Image
“Though he was only twenty-six, he felt that he had watched the decay and dissolution of a hundred years. Nothing of the past remained… — Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow Copy Share Image
