If she did not care for music, Mavis wondered why she had made a point of asking if she (Mavis) could play.
Mrs Hamilton's bedroom was a further revelation to the girl; she looked wide-eyed at the Louis Seize gilt furniture, the tapestry, the gilt-edged screens, the plated bath in a corner of the room, the superb dressing-table bestrewed with gold toilet nicknacks.
"Do you like my bed?" asked Mrs Hamilton, who was watching the girl's undisguised wonder.
"I haven't had time to take in the other things."
Mavis looked at the bed; it stood in an alcove on the side of the room furthest from where she was. It was long, low, and gilded; plum-coloured curtains rose in voluptuous folds till they were joined near the ceiling by a pair of big silver doves.
"Do you like it?" asked Mrs Hamilton.
"Like is scarcely the word. I've never imagined anything like it in my life."
"It belonged to Madame du Barri, the mistress of a French king."
"I've read something about her."
"He always wished to give her a toilette set of pure gold, but could never quite afford it. I hope to get one next year if things go well."