“Of course! I know that. You are exactly the Christine I have dreamed about,” and she lifted up her small face, and Christine kissed her, before she was aware. It was the most extraordinary thing, and Christine blushed and burned, but yet was strangely pleased and satisfied.
“Can I stay with you till four this afternoon, Christine? I want to very much.”
“You will be mair than welcome. Mither will be beside hersel’ wi’ the visit. Is Neil wi’ you?”
“No. I have come of my own wish and will. Neil is in London. Let me speak to the man who drove me here, and then I will tell you how it is.”
She left the house for a few minutes, and came back with a beaming face, and a parcel in her hand. “Suppose, Christine,” she said, “you show me where I can take off my bonnet and cloak and furs.” So Christine went with her to the best bedroom, and she cried out at the beauty of its view, and looked round at the books and papers, and the snow-white bed, and was wonder struck at the great tropic sea shell, hanging before the south window; for its wide rose-pink cavity was holding a fine plant of musk-flower, 253 and its hanging sprays of bloom, and heavenly scent, enthralled her.
“What a charming room!” she cried. “One could dream of heaven in it.”
“Do you dream, Roberta?”
“Every night.”
“Do you like to dream?”
“I would not like to go to bed, and not dream.”