"I wasn't, but I can be, if that's my cue," Diane laughed.

At the nonchalance of the reply Mrs. Eveleth was, for a second, half
deceived. Was it possible that she had only conjured up a waking
nightmare, and that there was nothing to be afraid of, after all?
Possessing the French quality of frankness to an unusual degree, it was
difficult for Diane to act a part at any time. With all her Parisian
finesse her nature was as direct as lightning, while her glance had that
fulness of candor which can never be assumed. Looking at her now, with
her elbows on the table, and the sandwich daintily poised between the
thumb and forefinger of her right hand, it was hard to connect her with
tragic possibilities. There were pearls around her neck and diamonds in
her hair; but to the wholesomeness of her personality jewels were no
more than dew on the freshness of a summer morning.

"I thought you'd be surprised to find me sitting up," Mrs. Eveleth began
again; "but the truth is, I couldn't go to bed while--"

"I'm glad you didn't," Diane broke in, with an evident intention to keep
the conversation in her own hands. "I'm not in the least sleepy. I could
sit here and talk till morning--though I suppose it's morning now.
Really the time to live is between midnight and six o'clock. One has a
whole set of emotions then that never come into play during the other
eighteen hours of the day. They say it's the minute when the soul comes
nearest to parting with the body, so I suppose that's the reason we can
see things, during the wee sma' hours, by the light of the invisible
spheres."

"I should be quite content with the light of this world--"