With it all, Washington did not greatly allure.

Washington, as she knew it, was distinctly things as they were; just now nothing allured half so much as those long dim paths of wondering leading off into the unknown.
Suddenly she had an odd sense of Washington--all that it represented to her--being the play, the game, the thing made to order and seeming very tame to her because she was dwelling with real things.

It was as if her craft of make-believe was the thing which had been able to carry her toward the shore of reality.
And so she told Wayne that she had no plans.

Perhaps she would go back to Europe with Ann.
He turned quickly at that.

"She goes back ?" "Oh yes--I suppose so." "But why?
Where?
To whom ?" "Why?
Why, why not?
Why does one go anywhere?
Florence is to Ann what Washington is to me--a sort of center." "Katie," he asked abruptly, "has she no people?
No ties?
Isn't she--moored any place ?" "Am I 'moored' any place ?" returned Kate.
"Why, yes; to the things that have made you--to the things you're part of.