As she spoke she unfastened her gown, slipped it off, and threw it across a chair. Then she put on a wrapper of white flannel, and, seating herself on the rug before the fire, loosened her heavy hair.
"I want to talk," she repeated.
Miss Ramsey drew a chair beside her and sat down. She laid her hand on Mariana's hair.
"Shall I braid it?" she asked.
Mariana shook her head.
"I don't want you to wait on me," she replied, half pettishly. "Janet can do that. I want you to love me."
Miss Ramsey smiled.
"How shall I begin?" she inquired.
But Mariana was silent, staring moodily into the fire, where the ruddy coals assumed sharp and bizarre designs. As the light flickered over her face it brought out the changes in her eyes and the warmth of her mouth.
"Do you see that head in the fire?" she asked, suddenly. "It is the head of the Sphinx—and before it there is a burning desert—do you see?"