The maid very slowly crossed the room to the washing-stand and set the can in the basin, covering it with a towel with elaborate care and deliberateness, looking at Viola out of the corners of her eyes as she did so.
"Please, m'm, when your luggage comes shall I bring it up?"
"Yes, do please, bring it up at once," replied Viola, and the girl slowly withdrew, shutting the door in the same lengthy manner after her.
Viola got up and crossed to the glass. She took off her hat and smoothed back her hair with her hand. Each time she did so, the light rippled exquisitely over its shining waves.
"I wonder if I ought to wash my face?" she remarked, looking in the glass; "does it look dusty?"
"Not in the least," I said, studying the pink and white reflection in the glass over her shoulder.
"Don't waste the time washing your face. Come and look out of the window."
We went over to the little casement, and leant our arms side by side on the sill.
The glorious afternoon sunlight was ripening and deepening into orange, a burnished sheen lay over everything, the blue hills were changing into violet, the trees along the road stood motionless, soft, and feathery-looking in the sleepy heat. As we looked out we saw a light cart coming leisurely along and recognised our luggage in it.
Some fifteen minutes later the round-eyed maid reappeared, with a man following her carrying our luggage.
"If you please, m'm, Mrs. Jevons says would the gentleman go down and give what orders he likes for dinner for to-day and to-morrow as the tradesmen are here now and would like to know."
"Do you mind going down, Trevor?" Viola asked me. "I want just to get a few of my things out?"
"Certainly not," I answered, "I'll go." And I followed the maid out and downstairs.
When I returned to the room about half-an-hour later, it was empty, and as I looked round it seemed transformed, now that her possessions were scattered about. I walked across it, a curious sense of pleasure seeming to clasp my heart and rock it in a cradle of joy.
I glanced at the toilet table. On the white cloth lay now two gold-backed brushes, a gold-backed mirror and a gold button-hook, a little clock in silver and a framed photograph of me; over the chair by the dressing-table was thrown what seemed a mass of mauve silk and piles of lace. I lifted it very gently, fearing it would almost fall to pieces, it seemed so fragile, and discovered it was her dressing-gown. How the touch of its folds stirred me since it was _hers_!