She looked at the floor heaped with every variety of delicate mourning, black dresses, thick and thin, for morning and afternoon; and black and white, or pure white, for the evening.  And what had happened to the bed?  It was already divested of the twilled cotton sheets and marcella quilt which were all the Hoopers ever allowed either to themselves or their guests.  They had been replaced by sheets ’of the finest and smoothest linen, embroidered with a crest and monogram in the corners, and by a coverlet of old Italian lace lined with pale blue silk; while the down pillows at the head with their embroidered and lace-trimmed slips completed the transformation of what had been a bed, and was now almost a work of art.

And the dressing-table!  Nora went up to it in amazement.  It too was spread with lace lined with silk, and covered with a toilet-set of mother-of-pearl and silver.  Every brush and bottle was crested and initialled.  The humble looking-glass, which Nora, who was something of a carpenter, had herself mended before her cousin’s arrival, was standing on the floor in a corner, and a folding mirror framed in embossed silver had taken its place.

“I say, do you always travel with these things?” The girl stood open-mouthed, half astonished, half contemptuous.

“What things?”

Nora pointed to the toilet-table and the bed.

Connie’s expression showed an answering astonishment.

“I have had them all my life,” she said stiffly.  “We always took our own linen to hotels, and made our rooms nice.”

“I should think you’d be afraid of their being stolen!” Nora took up one of the costly brushes, and examined it in wonder.

“Why should I be?  They’re nothing.  They’re just like other people’s!” With a slight but haughty change of manner, the girl turned away, and began to talk Italian to her maid.

“I never saw anything like them!” said Nora stoutly.

Constance Bledlow took no notice.  She and Annette were chattering fast, and Nora could not understand a word.  She stood by awkward and superfluous, feeling certain that the maid who was gesticulating, now towards the ceiling, and now towards the floor, was complaining both of her own room and of the kitchen accommodation.  Her mistress listened carelessly, occasionally trying to soothe her, and in the middle of the stream of talk, Nora slipped away.

“It’s horrid!—­spending all that money on yourself,” thought the girl of seventeen indignantly.  “And in Oxford too!—­as if anybody wanted such things here.”

* * * * *

Meanwhile, she was no sooner gone than her cousin sank down on the armchair, and broke into a slightly hysterical fit of laughter.

“Can we stand it, Annette?  We’ve got to try.  Of course you can leave me if you choose.”

“And I should like to know how you’d get on then!” said Annette, grimly, beginning again upon the boxes.