from one state into another, as the tiny dwellers of the sea cast off
their shells. She had a sense of freedom and a large vision, as of
dissonances resolved into harmony.

Clothes, also, which, as Madame had said, are "supposed to please and
satisfy women," had taken to themselves a new significance. Rose had
made herself take heed of her clothes, but she had never had much real
interest. Now she was glad of the time she had spent in planning her
gowns, merely with a view to pleasing Aunt Francesca.

To-night, she wore a clinging gown of deep green velvet, with a spray of
green leaves in her hair. Her only ornament was a pin of jade, in an
Oriental setting. Allison looked at her admiringly.

"There's something about you," he said, "that I don't know just how to
express. I have no words for it, but, in some way, you seem to live up
to your name."

"How so?" Rose asked, demurely.

"Well, I've never seen you wear anything that a rose might not wear.
I've seen you in red and green and yellow and pink and white, but never
in blue or purple, or any of those soft-coloured things that Aunt
Francesca wears."

"That only means," answered Rose, flushing, "that blue and grey and tan
and lavender aren't becoming to me."

"That isn't it," Allison insisted, "for you'd be lovely in anything.
You're living up to your name."