The homesick girl of seventeen has given place to a worldly wise young woman of twenty-five.
No more longing for the land across the seas. The power within still sleeps—Paris. With its pleasure haunts, its lights, its theatres—
Janet Knott—the center of an admiring coterie—she plays light music—waltzes. The joy of being alive—the whirl of a great city—subdued laughter of groups of men and women walking in the moonlight—the flowering chestnut trees—the roses—
Races of Longchamps—gay colors—a world of excitement.
Life—
Its waves swept over her.
She had chosen between this and art—fulfillment of the Soul.
Sometimes shadows of her power rose—beckoned.
She consoled these moments with coquetry. A success—flowers