"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? When I don't like the name
of a place or a person I always imagine a new one and always think of
them so. There was a girl at the asylum whose name was Hepzibah Jenkins,
but I always imagined her as Rosalia DeVere. Other people may call that
place the Avenue, but I shall always call it the White Way of Delight.
Have we really only another mile to go before we get home? I'm glad and
I'm sorry. I'm sorry because this drive has been so pleasant and I'm
always sorry when pleasant things end. Something still pleasanter may
come after, but you can never be sure. And it's so often the case that
it isn't pleasanter. That has been my experience anyhow. But I'm glad to
think of getting home. You see, I've never had a real home since I can
remember. It gives me that pleasant ache again just to think of coming
to a really truly home. Oh, isn't that pretty!"