She saw his boyish
smile and felt the warm touch of his rough hand. When the maid was
there instead of the green door, she almost said: "Is Martin in?"
But she behaved very well.
"Mrs. Mark?" she said in precisely the voice required.
The maid smiled and stood aside. And then into what a world she
entered! A world of comfort and reassurance, of homeliness and
kindliness, without parrots and fierce-eyed cats and swaying
pictures of armoured men--a world of urbanity and light and space.
There was a high white staircase with brown etchings in dark frames
on the white walls. There was a thick soft carpet and a friendly fat
grandfather clock. Many doors but none of them mysterious, all ready
to be opened.
She climbed the staircase and was shown into a room high and gaily
coloured and full of flowers. She saw the deep curtains, blue silk
shot with purple, the chairs of blue silk and a bowl of soft amber
light hanging from the ceiling. A mass of gold-red chrysanthemums
flamed against the curtains. Several people were gathered round a
tea-table near the fire.
She stood lost on the thick purple carpet under the amber light, all
too brilliant for her.
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