in the world beyond.

I have forgotten Robert. Robert Monroe was apt to be forgotten.
Although he was the oldest of the family, White Sands people, in
naming over the various members of the Monroe family, would add,
"and Robert," in a tone of surprise over the remembrance of his
existence.

He lived on a poor, sandy little farm down by the shore, but he
had come up to James' place on the evening when the guests
arrived; they had all greeted him warmly and joyously, and then
did not think about him again in their laughter and conversation.
Robert sat back in a corner and listened with a smile, but he
never spoke. Afterwards he had slipped noiselessly away and gone
home, and nobody noticed his going. They were all gayly busy
recalling what had happened in the old times and telling what had
happened in the new.

Edith recounted the successes of her concert tours; Malcolm
expatiated proudly on his plans for developing his beloved
college; Ralph described the country through which his new
railroad ran, and the difficulties he had had to overcome in
connection with it. James, aside, discussed his orchard and his
crops with Margaret, who had not been long enough away from the
farm to lose touch with its interests. Aunt Isabel knitted and
smiled complacently on all, talking now with one, now with the
other, secretly quite proud of herself that she, an old woman of
eighty-five, who had seldom been out of White Sands in her life,
could discuss high finance with Ralph, and higher education with
Malcolm, and hold her own with James in an argument on drainage.