Caroline cautiously opened the door and stole in gently to the side of
the bed, then paused and looked down with delight. Phoebe, asleep, was a
thing calculated to bring delight to any beholder. The brilliant, casual,
insouciant, worldly Phoebe had gone out on a dream-hunt and a delicious
curled-up flower lay in her place, with turned lashes dipping against
soft tinted cheeks. Her head rested on one bare white arm and one hand
curled under her daintily molded chin. Caroline caught her breath--this
was a pathetic Phoebe when one thought of the most times Phoebe, cool,
self-reliant--perforce!

"The darling," she whispered to herself as she slipped to her knees by
the low bed, "I can't bear to wake her, but I'm afraid not to; it's an
hour late already. Dear!" She slipped her arm under the glossy head
and pressed a little kiss on the dimple over the northeast corner of the
warm lips.

Phoebe's gray eyes smiled themselves open for a fraction of a second,
then she nestled to Caroline's shoulder and calmly drifted off again in
pursuit of the dream.

"Dearie," Caroline begged, "it's after ten!"

Phoebe sighed, nestled closer and drifted again. Caroline settled herself
against the pillows and pressed her cheek against the thick black braid
that curled across the sleeper's bare shoulder. She was incapable of
another combat with the sleep-god and decided to wait. Besides, the awake
Phoebe was busy--and elusive--not given to bestowing or receiving aught
save the most fleeting caresses. So for a few moments Caroline Darrah's
arms held her hungrily.