Alexandra laughed too.
"How you do lose your head and your heart to anything you love, Maggy," she said.
Maggy gave her one of her odd looks.
"Isn't it a way women have?" she retorted.
XXXIV
The room, of regal dimensions, was paneled in linenfold, and hung with old tapestry. Giant specimens of William and Mary furniture did not crowd it; nor did the big canopied four-poster on its dais much curtail the floor-space. In the wide, open fireplace logs glowed warmly. A dozen candles shed a soft light on Alexandra as she sat in a tall carved armchair by the hearth, plaiting her hair. Maggy on the bed in her nightgown with her hands clasped round her knees was lost in the shadow of its brocaded curtains.
"Pinch me, Lexie, or I shall believe it's all a dream and wake up," she said. "Fancy, a king slept here once. I wonder what he'd have said if he'd been told that hundreds of years afterwards a chorus girl was coming into his bed—" A shy gurgle brought her to a stop as she realized the doubtful meaning she had given to the last part of the sentence. "Lexie, how quiet you are."
"I'm reveling in it too," said Alexandra with a contented sigh.
"Oh, you're a lady by birth. It's natural to you."
"Indeed it isn't. I've never been in such a lovely place in my life."