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said.
    “‘Must you always go when Teddy calls?’ asked Dean.
    “I nodded and explained,
    “‘He only calls like that when he wants me
especially
and I have promised I will always go if I possibly can.’
    “‘I want you
especially!’
said Dean. ‘I came up this evening on purpose to read
The Alhambra
with you.’
    “Suddenly I felt very unhappy. I wanted to stay with Dean dreadfully, and yet I felt as if I must go to Teddy. Dean looked at me piercingly. Then he shut up
The Alhambra
.
    “‘Go,’ he said.
    “I went – but things seemed spoiled, somehow.
    “May 10, 19–
    “I have been reading three books Dean lent me this week. One was like a rose garden – very pleasant, but just a little too sweet. And one was like a pine wood on a mountain – full of balsam and tang – I loved it, and yet it filled me with a sort of despair. It was written so beautifully – I can
never
write like that, I feel sure. And one – it was just like a pig-sty Dean gave me that one by mistake. He was very angry with himself when he found it out – angry and distressed.
    “‘Star – Star – I would
never
have given you a book like that – my confounded carelessness – forgive me. That book is a faithful picture of one world – but not your world, thank God – nor any world you will ever be a citizen of. Star, promise me you will forget that book.’
    “‘I’ll forget it if I can,’ I said.
    “But I don’t know if I can. It was so ugly. I have not been so happy since I read it. I feel as if my hands were soiled somehow and I couldn’t wash them clean. And I have another queer feeling, as if
some gate had been shut behind me
, shutting me into a new world I don’t quite understand or like, but through which I must travel.
    “Tonight I tried to write a description of Dean in my Jimmy-book of character sketches. But I didn’t succeed. What I wrote seemed like a photograph – not a portrait. There is something in Dean that is beyond me.
    “Dean took a picture of me the other day with his new camera, but he wasn’t pleased with it.
    “‘It doesn’t look like you,’ he said, ‘but of course one can never photograph starlight.’
    “Then he added, quite sharply, I thought,
    “‘Tell that young imp of a Teddy Kent to keep your face out of his pictures. He has no business to put
you
into every one he draws.’
    “‘He doesn’t!’ I cried. ‘Why, Teddy never made but the one picture of me – the one Aunt Nancy
stole’
    “I said it quite viciously and unashamed, for I’ve never forgiven Aunt Nancy for keeping that picture.
    “‘He’s got
something
of you in every picture,’ said Dean stubbornly – your eyes – the curve of your neck – the tilt of your head – your personality. That’s the worst – I don’t mind your eyes and curves so much, but I won’t have that cub putting a bit of your soul into everything he draws. Probable he doesn’t know he’s doing it – which makes it all the worse.’
    “‘I don’t understand you,’ I said,
quite haughtily
. ‘But Teddy is
wonderful
– Mr. Carpenter says so.’
    “And Emily of New Moon echoes it! Oh, the kid has talent – he’ll do something some day if his morbid mother doesn’t ruin his life. But let him keep his pencil and brush off
my
property’
    “Dean laughed as he said it. But I held my head high. I am not anybody’s ‘property,’ not even in fun. And I
never
will be.
    “May 12, 19–
    “Aunt Ruth and Uncle Wallace and Uncle Oliver were all here this afternoon. I like Uncle Oliver, but I am not much fonder of Aunt Ruth and Uncle Wallace than I ever was. They held some kind of family conclave in the parlour with Aunt Elizabeth and Aunt Laura. Cousin Jimmy was allowed in, but I was excluded, although I feel perfectly certain it had something to do with me. I think Aunt Ruth didn’t get her own way, either, for she snubbed me continually all through supper, and said I was growing weedy! Aunt Ruth generally snubs me and