Jenny brought her arms out from under the blanket and put them behind her neck. It was icy cold in the room, and dark. No ray of light came through the shutters. She struck a match and looked at her watch—it was nearly seven. She could doze a little longer, and she crept down under the blankets again, with her head deep in the pillow.
“Jenny, are you asleep?” Francesca opened the door without knocking, and came close to the bed. She felt for her friend’s face in the dark and stroked it. “Tired?”
“No. I am going to get up now.”
“When did you come home?”
“About three o’clock. I went to Prati for a bath before lunch and ate at the Ripetta, you know, and when I came home I went to bed at once. I am thoroughly rested. I’ll get up now.”
“Wait a moment. It’s very cold; let me light the fire.” Francesca lighted the lamp on the table.
“Why not call the signora? Oh, Cesca, come here, let me look at you.” Jenny sat up in bed.
Francesca placed the lamp on the table by the bed and turned slowly round in the light of it. She had put on a white blouse with her green skirt and thrown a striped scarf about her shoulders. Round her neck she wore a double row of deep red corals, and long, polished drops hung from her ears. She pulled her hair laughingly from her ears to show that the drops were tied to them by means of darning wool.
“Fancy, I got them for sixty-eight lire—a bargain, wasn’t it? Do you think they suit me?”
“Capitally! With that costume, too. I should like to paint you as you are now.”