“No.”
Joey straightened her head on her pillow.
“It’s not the least use me tryin’ to describe him to you,” she breathed in broken tones.
Miriam struggled uneasily with her thoughts ... a leading Q.C.—about forty.... “Oh, do try,” she said, a little fearfully ... how vulgar ... just like a housemaid ... no; Wiggerson would never have said such a thing, nor asked at all. It was treachery to Mr. Corrie. If Joey said anything more about him she would never be able to speak to him freely.
“He’s divine,” said Joey, smiling into the fire.
How nice of Joey to be so free with her and want her to like him too ... the gong. They both rose and peered into the little strip of mirror in the small overmantel ... divine might mean anything ... divine ... oh, quite too utterly too-too ... greenery-yellery—Grosvenor-gallery—foot-in-the-grave young man.
CHAPTER III
1
The next day the ground was powdered with snow. Large snowflakes were hurrying through the air driving to and fro on a harsh wind. The wind snored round the house like a flame and bellowed in the chimneys. An opened window let in the cold air and the smell of the snow. No sound came from the woods. The singing of the birds and the faint sound of the woods had gone.
But when Miriam left her room to go across to the schoolroom and wait for the children she found the spring in the house. The landing was bright with the light streaming through many open doors. Rooms were being prepared. On a large tray on the landing table lay a mass of spring flowers and little flowered bowls of many shapes and sizes filled with fresh water. Stokes and Wiggerson were fluttering in and out of the rooms carrying frilled bed-linen, lace-edged towels and flowered bed-spreads.