“I saw you did not like the idea of sacking, though I think it might have been made quite pretty, painted artistically, as I am sure you could have done it, with a Grecian key pattern or something of the kind, along the border.” She had spoken standing near the heaped material conciliatingly, and now bent and caught gingerly at an end, as if uncertain of its mood. “Still, I thought I would get this. It is the new stuff they are calling ‘Casement cloth’ in quality rather like a fine ‘crash.’ Very durable, and not ruinous in price.” “Perfect. Tones with the floor and my crocks. But you must let me pay. It’s my extravagance.” “Not at all. I quite like it. I shall certainly contribute my share. Your things are here. They are charming. I perceive that you have excellent taste.” “Joy, where are they?” “I had them set down in here. I thought you would prefer to arrange them yourself.” She threw open the connecting door and stood back, a gracious hostess introducing guests. How tall she was indoors, and big. Heavy in build, yet limber and light-footed; graceful. The grey in the sleek dark mass of hair scarcely showed. Her large eyes, set well apart on either side of her good nose, when there was no street light to show the tired muscles round about them, were really beautiful. Liquid radiant blue, with a darker ring. “I suddenly,” Miriam said, going into the crowded little room, “remembered crockery and went back to Maple’s. But there’s a tragedy. I forgot an indispensable.” She was startled by laughter, an abrupt fairy tinkle, affectionate and gay. “Never mind,” said the voice, unchanged. “I will obtain one for you.” “How?” “Oh, quite easily, I assure you.” “And, oh Lord, a pail! I forgot a pail.” “There is no need to invoke the Deity. I have several pails.” Miriam turned and saw happiness shine from her. Her presence was balm as she stood so lightly there—a momentary stillness poised for help, ready to welcome any confession, shoulder any burden that might be offered—and then turned on a dancing step towards the big room, thoroughly pleased, deep, quite deep, in delight at the prospect of settling down here in intimacy. And here they were. And it _was_ wonderful. Full of a deep refreshment. The experiment was turning to success. But not yet quite fully. Not until the curtain was up and the strips of privacy were secure. She was not sure that Miss Holland desired a complete privacy. The curtain, for her, was an affair of modesty, a physical not a spiritual covering. Spiritually she had nothing to hide.