She had spoken standing near the heaped material conciliatingly, and now bent and caught gingerly at an end, as if uncertain of its mood.
“Still, I thought I would get this. It is the new stuff they are calling ‘Casement cloth’ in quality rather like a fine ‘crash.’ Very durable, and not ruinous in price.”
“Perfect. Tones with the floor and my crocks. But you must let me pay. It’s my extravagance.”
“Not at all. I quite like it. I shall certainly contribute my share. Your things are here. They are charming. I perceive that you have excellent taste.”
“Joy, where are they?”
“I had them set down in here. I thought you would prefer to arrange them yourself.”
She threw open the connecting door and stood back, a gracious hostess introducing guests. How tall she was indoors, and big. Heavy in build, yet limber and light-footed; graceful. The grey in the sleek dark mass of hair scarcely showed. Her large eyes, set well apart on either side of her good nose, when there was no street light to show the tired muscles round about them, were really beautiful. Liquid radiant blue, with a darker ring.
“I suddenly,” Miriam said, going into the crowded little room, “remembered crockery and went back to Maple’s. But there’s a tragedy. I forgot an indispensable.”
She was startled by laughter, an abrupt fairy tinkle, affectionate and gay.
“Never mind,” said the voice, unchanged. “I will obtain one for you.”