“It’s too heavy for you” said Mr. Hancock straining his head back and moving it from side to side.
“I believe it would look best” said Miriam “across the corner of the room as you come in—where the corner cupboard is—I’m sure it would” she said eagerly and went back to the centre of the carpet.
Mr. Hancock smiled towards the small oak cupboard fixed low in the angle of the wall.
“We should have to move the cupboard,” he said dubiously and carried the heavy plate to the indicated place.
“That’s simply lovely” said Miriam in delight as he held the plaque in front of the long narrow façade of black oak.
Mr. Hancock lowered the plaque to the floor and propped it crosswise against the angle.
“It would be no end of a business fixing it up” he murmured crossing to her side. They stood looking at the beautiful surface blurred a little in the light by its backward tilt. They gazed fascinated as the plaque slid gently forward and fell heavily breaking into two pieces.
They regarded one another quietly and went forward to gather up the fragments. The broken sides gritted together as Miriam held hers steady for the other to be fitted to it. When they were joined the crack was hardly visible.
“That’ll be a nice piece of work for Messrs. Nikkoo” said Mr. Hancock with a little laugh, “we’d better get it in back behind the sofa for the present.” They spread the brown paper over the brilliant surfaces and stood up. Miriam’s perceptions raced happily along. How had he known that she cared for things? She was not sure that she did ... not in the way that he did.... How did he know that she had noticed any of his things? Because she had blurted out “Oh what a perfectly lovely picture” when he showed her the painting of his cousin? But that was because he admired his cousin and her brother had painted the picture and he admired them both and she had not known about this when she spoke.
“Did you see this month’s Studio?” she asked shyly.