Love's child--only she had not dwelt all her days in her father's house.

But it was her father's house; that was why, once warmed and comforted, she could radiantly take her place.

Watching her as she was going over her game for Wayne, demonstrating some of her strokes, and her slim, beautiful body made even the poor strokes wonderful things, Katie was not speculating on whether Ann had come from Chicago, or Florence, or Big Creek.

She was thinking that Ann was product, expression, of the love of the world, that love which had brought the laughter and the tears, brought the hope and the radiance and the tragedy of life.
And then, suddenly and inexplicably, Katie was afraid.

Of just what, she did not know; of things--big, tempestuous things--which Katie did not very well understand, and which Ann--perhaps not understanding either--seemed to embody.