All but one room!
"This," said her conductor, throwing open a door, "is where Benis does his work. He calls it his den. But you will agree that library sounds better."
Desire went in—with the other rooms she had been content to stand in the doors—and, as she entered, the room seemed to draw round and welcome her. It was deeply and happily familiar—that shallow, rounded window from which one could lean and touch the grass outside, that dark, old desk with its leather and brass, that blue bowl on the corner of the mantel-piece, the lazy, yet expectant, chairs; even the beech tree whose light fingers tapped upon the window glass! It was all part of her life, past or future—somewhere.
"You see," said Aunt Caroline in her character of showman, "we have fireplaces!"
Desire was so used to fireplaces that this did not seem extraordinary and yet, from Aunt Caroline's tone, she knew that it must be, and tried to look impressed.
"They are dirty," went on Aunt Caroline, "but they are worth it. They give atmosphere. If you have a house like this, you have to have fireplaces. That is what I tell my maids when I engage them. So that they cannot grumble afterwards. Fireplaces are dirty, I tell them, but—what are you staring at, my dear?"
"Was I staring? I didn't know. It is just that I seem to know it all."
Aunt Caroline looked wise. "Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Benis explains that curious feeling—some-thing about your right sphere or something being larger than your left, or quicker, I forget which. Not that I can see any sense in it, anyway. Do you mind if I leave you here? I want to see if Olive has made the changes I ordered upstairs."
"Get a hump on!" said a loud, rude voice.
Aunt Caroline jumped.