| They Crooned Together There, the Woman, the Child and the Birds | Frontispiece |
| | PAGE |
| Scooped Hundreds—Perhaps Thousands—Out of a Chest to Flee at Dawn | 43 |
| The Tall, Gaunt, Silent Woman … Striding Through the Pastures | 49 |
| I Seem to See … a Beautiful Woman in a Blue Dress Sitting Under a Fruit Tree | 105 |
| Persons Born in That Month of That Year Will Never Be Otherwise Than Far Out of the Ordinary | 132 |
| Margarita Stopped and Stared at It Several Minutes | 144 |
| For Hours and Hours I Walked, Muttering and Cursing | 163 |
| Her Weekly Check, Plus a Draft for a Hundred Pounds | 174 |
| She Spins Her Hemp and Weaves Osiers into Baskets and Changes Them for Goats' Hams | 204 |
| The Gloomy, Faded Glories of the Musty Palace | 208 |
| Ah, Faithful Caliban, What Hours of Terrible Tuition Made Thy Task Clear to Thee! | 233 |
| He Sketched Her in Charcoal, Dressed (He Would Have It) in Black | 240 |
| It Was After the Garden Love-Scene That She Won Her Recalls | 250 |
| They Are Still as Death, Tranced in Those Liquid Bell-Tones | 270 |
| I Leaned Over the Bank and Cried That I Was There, But She Never Stopped—It Was Terrible | 281 |
| It Is a Favourite Claim of Ours Who Are Bidden to That Home That It Is an Enchanted Isle | 296 |
