She pointed to an upper window smeared with light. "I have left that to Miriam, but I must go and put on my best frock."
"You always look all right," he said. "I suppose it's because your hair's so smooth."
"No," she answered, and laughed with her transforming gaiety, "it's just because I'm mediocre and don't get noticed."
He hesitated and decided to be bold. "I'll tell you something, as you're so down in the mouth. Rupert thinks you're better looking than Miriam. There! Go and look at yourself." He waved her off, and the questions fell from her lips unuttered.
She lighted a candle and went upstairs, but when she had passed into the dark peace of Jane and put the candle on her dressing-table, she found she needed more illumination by which to see this face which Rupert considered fair.
"Miriam will have heaps of them," she said and knocked at Ph[oe]be's door.
"I've come to borrow a candle," she said as she was told to enter, and added, "Oh, what waste! I hope Notya won't come in."
"She can't unless I let her," Miriam answered grimly.
There were lights on the mantelpiece, on the dressing-table, on the washstand, and two in tall sticks burned before the cheval glass as though it had been an altar.
"You can take one of them," Miriam said airily.