“Very well! You must be very careful to separate the different pinks, though. See, we will have the rose here, the salmon here, the deeper rose here, the pale pink over there, and the reds⁠—there is no more room⁠—we will put the reds in this paper.”

“Certainly,” agreed Carstares. “Are we to leave the other colours until the pinks are sorted?”

She nodded and bent her head over the silks.

“Is Sir Miles coming this afternoon, Mr. Carr?”

“Why yes, Miss Betty⁠—now you mention it, I remember that he is. Miss Beauleigh, I defy you to put that one on the rose pile; ’tis a shade too deep.”

“I am sure ’tis not! Where is one to compare with it?”

Carstares produced a long thread and held it next to hers. The two heads were bent close over it. Diana sighed.