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"
Stephanie
,
"
he
asked
,
cautiously
,
"
how
old
are
you
,
exactly
?
"
"
I
will
be
twenty-one
in
April
,
"
she
answered
.
"
Have
your
parents
been
very
strict
with
you
?
"
She
shook
her
head
dreamily
.
"
No
;
what
makes
you
ask
?
They
have
n't
paid
very
much
attention
to
me
.
They
've
always
liked
Lucille
and
Gilbert
and
Ormond
best
.
"
Her
voice
had
a
plaintive
,
neglected
ring
.
It
was
the
voice
she
used
in
her
best
scenes
on
the
stage
.
"
Do
n't
they
realize
that
you
are
very
talented
?
"
"
I
think
perhaps
my
mother
feels
that
I
may
have
some
ability
.
My
father
does
n't
,
I
'm
sure
.
Why
?
"
She
lifted
those
languorous
,
plaintive
eyes
.
"
Why
,
Stephanie
,
if
you
want
to
know
,
I
think
you
're
wonderful
.
I
thought
so
the
other
night
when
you
were
looking
at
those
jades
.
It
all
came
over
me
You
are
an
artist
,
truly
,
and
I
have
been
so
busy
I
have
scarcely
seen
it
.
Tell
me
one
thing
.
"
"
Yes
.
"
