"Ann is of--artistic people. Her father was a great artist. That is, he
would have been a great artist had he not died when he was very young."

"Rather an assumption, isn't it, that a man would have--"

"Why not at all, if he has done enough during his brief lifetime to
warrant the assumption."

"Is her mother living?"

"Oh no," said Katie irritably, "certainly not. Her mother has been
dead--five years." Then, looking into the dreamy distance and drawing it
out as though she loved it: "Her mother was a great musician."

"I shan't like her," announced Wayne decisively; "she is probably exotic
and self-conscious and supercilious, and not at all a comfortable person
to have about. It's bad enough for her father to have been a great
artist--without her mother needs having been a great musician."

"She is simple and sweet and very shy," reproved Kate. "So shy that she
will doubtless be painfully embarrassed at meeting you, and seem--well,
really ill at ease."

"That will be an odd spectacle--a young woman of to-day 'painfully
embarrassed' at meeting a man. I never saw any of them very ill at ease,
save when there were no men about."

"Ann's experiences have not all been happy ones, Wayne," said Katie in
the manner of the deeply understanding to one of lesser comprehension.