The child hesitated for a moment, not anticipating the question.

"Imogen," she answered quickly, almost hastily, the name rolling easily off her tongue. She had heard it once and taken a liking to it—and after all, she did not wish to be Rosie-Mae anymore. Rosie-Mae was the sort of girl who had a drunkard father and very little opportunity to set her own path in life. Imogen, though, could go off on adventures, could take the reins, could be something.

Imogen was who she wanted to be, and who she would be.