All her life she had held those imaginary conversations, but heretofore it had been with her horse, her dog, the trees, a white cloud against the blue, something somewhere.

None of the hundreds of nice people she knew had ever moved her to imaginary conversations.

And so now it was stimulating--energizing--not to have to diffuse her thought into the unknown, but to direct it at, and through, the man who mended the boats and said strange things to Worth up at the tip of the Island.
And he came at a time when she had great need of him.

Never before had there been so many things to start one on imaginary conversations, conversations which ended usually in a limitless wondering.

Since Ann had come the simplest thought had a way of opening a door into a vast country.
Too many doors were opening that afternoon.