Miriam crossed to the fireplace through a warm faintly sweet atmosphere. A small fire was smoking and the gas was partly turned down but the room was warm with a friendly brown warmth. Something had made her linger in the hall until Mrs. Bailey had come to the dining-room door and stood there with the door wide open and something to communicate waiting behind her friendly greetings. As a rule there was nothing behind her friendly greetings but friendly approval and assurance. Miriam had never seen the dining-room door open before and sought distraction from the communicativeness by drifting towards it and peering in. Once in and sitting in the chair between the fireplace and Mrs. Bailey's tumbled work-basket standing on the edge of the long table, bound to stay taking in the room until Mrs. Bailey returned, she regretted looking in. The hall and the stairs and her own room would be changed now she knew what this room was like. In her fatigue she looked about half taking in half recoiling from the contents of the room. "He stopped and got off his bicycle and I said you don't seem very pleased to _see_ me." Already he knew that they were tiresome strangers to each other. "I can't go dancing off to Bournemouth at a moment's notice dear." "Well, I strongly advise you to go as soon as you can." "Of _course_ I'm going, but I can't just dance off." "Don't let him get into the habit of associating you with the idea of worry." If she didn't _worry_ him and was always a little ill, and pretty ... "he says he can't do without her. I've told him without reserve what the chances are and given them my blessing." Did he really feel that suddenly sitting there in the consulting-room? If only she wouldn't be so mysterious and important about nothing....