Are you ?" "No," said Joan steadily.

"But Uncle is." In this second interval of readjustment, yesterday seemed aeons back.
They had traveled far.

The peace and peril of the moment were ineffably sweet.
"You can be yourself anywhere," said Joan clearly, taking from the chest an exquisite old lavender gown for which she seemed to have come.
"And if your self is bad, the--the where doesn't matter." Her insight rather startled him.

Often afterward he was to find in her that curious ability to detach herself from custom and tradition, skiff away the husks of cumulative prejudice and find the kernel of truth for herself.
Joan went toward the stairs; he followed her with a troubled sigh.

The stage mother bothered him.