She stood for a moment at the door of Rosa’s room as she left it. It was a beautiful room; so much softness, such lovely silky things all about, and the glow of the bird’s-eye maple furniture stood out even in that subdued light.
How empty it was! How it lacked personality! Even a certain untidiness which Nancy always remembered as a part of Ted’s humble little room was, after all, so personal, so Teddy-like!
The cape lay on the chair. It was a beautiful cape, but now instead of being merely beautiful to Nancy’s critical eye, it was the symbol of something to be dreaded, to be careful about, and to hold as secret!
Just as she turned to enter the room which was now hers, Nancy pulled up sharply at the sound of another step.
“Is that you, Nancy?” It was Margot who put the question, and the sight of her was indeed welcome to the perturbed girl.
“Oh, yes, Margot,” she replied, assuming as much ease as she could command, “I was getting a book from Rosa’s room. I’m going to spend a whole evening reading.”
The woman, who was more than a maid yet less than a relative, laid her white hand upon Nancy’s arm.
“You will never regret having a fondness for reading,” she said seriously. “There is nothing better for a young girl than a good book.”
“Oh, I’ve always loved to read,” replied Nancy, flushing under the compliment, “but I’m afraid I like it too much. There are so many other things to do, you know.”
“Of course, there are other things to do,” admitted Margot, sort of leading Nancy into her room while she talked, “but I do believe in lots of reading. I can’t get Rosalind to read anything but the most absurd stuff,” her voice was full of regret at this point. “Can you imagine her reading boys’ books? And detective stories?”
“Oh, yes,” defended Nancy, “I know lots of girls who do that. And boys’ books are good reading, sometimes.” She feared each new sentence from Margot would be a question about the intruder, and hardly knew what she herself was saying.
“But you see, my dear, it’s this way with Rosa. Let’s sit down. I’ve been wanting a few minutes’ talk with you.”
Nancy pulled out a comfortable chair into which the portly Margot deposited herself. A low boudoir chair, the sort with the lovely square boxy arms, suited Nancy best and she placed herself into that.