XXXIV The room, of regal dimensions, was paneled in linenfold, and hung with old tapestry. Giant specimens of William and Mary furniture did not crowd it; nor did the big canopied four-poster on its dais much curtail the floor-space. In the wide, open fireplace logs glowed warmly. A dozen candles shed a soft light on Alexandra as she sat in a tall carved armchair by the hearth, plaiting her hair. Maggy on the bed in her nightgown with her hands clasped round her knees was lost in the shadow of its brocaded curtains. "Pinch me, Lexie, or I shall believe it’s all a dream and wake up," she said. "Fancy, a king slept here once. I wonder what he’d have said if he’d been told that hundreds of years afterwards a chorus girl was coming into his bed—" A shy gurgle brought her to a stop as she realized the doubtful meaning she had given to the last part of the sentence. "Lexie, how quiet you are." "I’m reveling in it too," said Alexandra with a contented sigh. "Oh, you’re a lady by birth. It’s natural to you." "Indeed it isn’t. I’ve never been in such a lovely place in my life." "Footmen with powdered legs!" mused Maggy absently. Alexandra laughed softly. "Hair, I mean. Same thing.... And the dinner served like machinery and yet so quietly. None of the waiters—servants—in a hurry, and everything so natural and perfect. I thought I should feel like walking on new-laid eggs, but I didn’t at all. Oh, if you lived in a place like this all your life you couldn’t help growing noble and behaving beautifully. I don’t feel properly vulgar here." "But you’re not vulgar." "Well, perhaps not properly.... Isn’t Mrs. Pardiston a dear? She’s ’the Honorable,’ isn’t she? I think ’the Honorable’ sounds more splendid than ’Lady’ or even ’Duchess.’ ’Honorable!’ It means so much. The others are tides, but ’the Honorable’ is an—an—" "Attribute?" supplied Alexandra. "Yes, that’s the word. Isn’t it nice of him asking her—his own aunt—to meet us? Oh, Lord!" "What’s the matter?" "I asked Lord Chalfont not to tell any one we were on the stage. Mrs. Pardiston can’t know. She ought to. She’s been so sweet to me. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been if she’d known. I think I ought to tell her before I go to sleep." "Why not wait till the morning?" suggested Alexandra. "I’m sure to forget in the morning. I’m going to get up at seven to see the cows milked. You mustn’t, Lexie, because you’ve got a cold. And then there’ll be church, and after that the Christmas tree to do things to, and—I shan’t _remember_ I’m on the stage to-morrow. Oh, are you going?" "My dear, it’s past twelve." Alexandra’s bedroom was opposite Maggy’s. "I wish we had been together," she said. "So do I. But I suppose in the state of life unto which it has pleased God to call the aristocracy they never do sleep together. Good night, darling."