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carrying her bag. Will you have your milk hot or cold Miriam? called Florrie from below⁠—Oh, hot I think please, I shan’t be a second said Miriam into the spare room, hoping to be left. Grace turned up the gas. M‑m darling she murmured with timid gentle kisses, I’m so glad you have come. So am I . It’s glorious to be safely here⁠ ⁠… I shan’t be a second. I’ll come down as I am and appear radiant tomorrow⁠—You’re always radiant⁠—I’m simply grubby; I’ve worn this blouse all the week; oh bliss, hot water. Sit on the rocking chair while I ablute; unpack my bag⁠—D’you mind if I don’t Miriam darling? Aunt and I called on the Unwins today and I haven’t put my hat by yet. We’ve got three clear days⁠—All right, oh my dear you don’t know how glad I am I’m here⁠—Grace came back murmuring from the door to repeat the gentle kisses. When the door was shut the freshness and quietude of the room enfolded Miriam, smoothing away grubbiness and fatigue. Opening her Gladstone bag she threw on to the bed her new cream nun’s veiling blouse and lace tie, her brushbag and sponge-bag and shoes and a volume of Schiller and a bundle of notepaper and envelopes. A nightgown was put ready for her on the bed frilled in an old-fashioned way with handmade embroidery. Her bag went under the bed for nearly four days. Nothing grubby anywhere. No grubbiness for four days. In the large square mirror her dingy blouse and tie looked quite bright under the gaslight screened by the frosted globe. Her hair had been flattened by her hat becomingly over the broad top of her head, and its mass pushed down in a loose careless bundle with good chance curves reaching low on to her neck. She poured the hot water into one of the large cream-coloured basins, her eye running round the broad gilt-edged band ornamenting its rim over the gleaming marble cover of the washstand, the gleaming tiles facing her beyond the rim of the basin, the highly polished woodwork above the tiles. She snuffed freshness everywhere. While the fresh unscented curdiness of the familiar Broom soap went over her face and wrists and hands she began to hunger for the clean supper, for the fresh night in the freshness of the large square bed, for the clean solid leisurely breakfast.