She was made that way; all year long it seemed to her, shut off on her island, that never would she have her fill of seeing Rorketon's brighrly illuminated shop windows, the electric lights which burned all night along its main street, the many buggies that thronged there, the plank sidewalks and the people moving about on them-in short, the intense life afforded by this big village with its Chinese restaurant, its Greek-rite Catholic chapel, its Orthodox church, its Rumanian tailor, its cupolas, its whitewashed cottages, its peasants in sheepskins and big rabbit hats-some, immigrants from Sweden; others, from Finland or Iceland; still others, and they were the majority, come from Bukovina and Galicia.