For the picture was there before her eyes.

Each day it grew more familiar, as at home in Amy's room she watched her beautiful sister, a stranger no longer to her now, seated at her dressing table good-humouredly chatting, and meanwhile revealing by numberless deft little things she was doing the secrets of clothes and of figure, and of cheeks and lips and eyes, with subtle hints behind it all of the ancient magic art of Pan.

She felt Amy ceaselessly bringing her out.

This gave her thrills of excitement.

And looking at her sister she asked: "Shall I ever be like that ?" And they kept talking, talking.