"I hope she'll go on sleeping. A young woman of artistic
people--painfully embarrassed--unhappy experiences--it doesn't sound at
all comfortable to me."

But a little later he said: "Prescott seems to think that
Daisey-Maisey company not bad. If you girls would like to go we'll
telephone for seats."

Katie paused in the eating of a peach. "Thank you, Wayne, but I have
an idea--just a vague sort of idea--that Ann would not care especially
for that."

"She's probably right," said Wayne, returning with relief to the
blue prints.

Katie's sporting blood was up. Ann was to be Ann. Never in her life had
she been so fascinated with anything as with this creation of an Ann.

"I have prepared a place for her," she mused, over the untucking of
the softest of rose pink muslins. "I have prepared for her a family
and a temperament and a sorrow and all that a young woman could most
desire. From out the nothing a conscious something I have evoked. It
would be most ungracious--ungrateful--of Ann to refuse to be what I
made her. I invented her. By all laws of decency, she must be Ann.
Indeed, she _is_ Ann."

And Katie was truly beginning to think so. Katie's imagination coquetted
successfully with conviction.

Ann, or more accurately the idea of Ann, fascinated her. Never before