She drew forth the engagement-book, smiling at her childish game of “pretending.” At eleven, a hat to try on; eleven-thirty, a dress; from then to two o’clock, nothing; at two, a slow solemn drive with poor old Mrs. Minity (in the last-surviving private victoria in the town); tea and bridge at Countess Lanska’s from four to six; a look in at the Rectory of the American church, where there was a Ladies’ Guild meeting about the Devastated Regions’ Fancy Fair; lastly a little dinner at the Casino, with the Horace Betterlys and a few other pals. Yes--a rather-better-than-the-average day. And now--Why, now she could kick over the whole apple-cart if she chose; chuck it all (except the new dress and hat!): the tedious drive with the prosy patronizing old woman; the bridge, which was costing her more than it ought, with that third-rate cosmopolitan set of Laura Lanska’s; the long discussion at the Rectory as to whether it would “do” to ask Mrs. Schlachtberger to take a stall at the Fair in spite of her unfortunate name; and the little dinner with the Horace Betterlys and their dull noisy friends, who wanted to “see life” and didn’t know that you can’t see it unless you’ve first had the brains to imagine it.... Yes, she could drop it all now, and never never see one of them again.... “My daughter ... my daughter Anne.... Oh, you don’t know my little girl? She _has_ changed, hasn’t she? Growing up is a way the children have.... Yes, it is ageing for a poor mother to trot about such a young giantess.... Oh, I’m going gray already, you know--here, on the temples. _Fred Landers?_ It is you, really? Dear old Fred! No, of course I’ve never forgotten you.... Known me anywhere? You would? Oh, nonsense! Look at my gray hair. But _men_ don’t change--lucky men! Why, I remember even that Egyptian seal-ring of yours.... My daughter ... my daughter Anne ... let me introduce you to this big girl of mine ... my little Anne....”