She planned that she would receive Derry in the small drawing room. It
was an informal room which had been kept by her mother for intimate
friends. There was a wide window which faced west, a davenport in deep
rose velvet, some chairs to match, and there were always roses in an
old blue bowl.

Jean knew the dress she was going to wear in this room--of blue to
match the bowl, with silver lace, and a girdle of pink brocade.

Alone in her room with Polly-Ann to watch proceedings, she got out the
lovely gown.

"Oh, I do want to be pretty, Polly-Ann," she said with much wistfulness.

Yet when she was all hooked and snapped into it, she surveyed herself
with some dissatisfaction in the mirror.

"Why not?" she asked the mirror. "Why shouldn't I wear it?"

The mirror gave back a vision of beauty--but behind that vision in the
depths of limitless space Jean's eyes discerned something which made
her change her gown. Quite soberly she got herself into a little nun's
frock of gray with collars and cuffs of transparent white, and above it
all was the glory of her crinkled hair.

Neither then nor afterwards could she analyze her reasons for the
change. Perhaps sub-consciously she was perceiving that this meeting
with Derry Drake was to be a serious and stupendous occasion.
Throughout the world the emotions of men and women were being quickened