Susan smiled at this proof of confidence.
"I'll shut the window, shall I?" the girl went on, letting it slam as she withdrew the hair-brush. "I was airing my bed. I always make it before I go down because I'm anæmic, and I've no breath to run up all these flights of stairs after breakfast.—If you want to be private you can pull the curtain."
That was the one thing she would not willingly do for her; with her own hands shut out the view of one so mysterious.
The other sleepers were stirring behind their enshrouding folds, like hidden moths preparing to burst from the chrysalis. In one quarter after another the heavy breathing was cut short by an awaking sigh. One or two emerged with their jugs and padded barefoot to the hot-water tap on the landing.
"I'll get you a jugful, shall I?" said Susan's friend, and having installed herself as mistress of the ceremonies, returned to the subject of the star.
"Mind you don't try a pawnbroker," she said. "If you take my advice you'll walk into the swaggerest shop in Bond Street, where they are used to ladies."
"Why?" asked Susan.
The girl assumed a great air of worldly wisdom, cocking her head on one side like a London sparrow.
"Oh," she said, "they won't be so likely to lose their heads over you, and perhaps ask you how you got it."
She had not considered that. Her dismayed look gratified the girl, who at once adopted the manner of a protector.