You've taken a fancy to it, have you? Then we will call it
Daphne's Bower."
Dinah's laugh was not without a hint of restraint. "I haven't been in any
other room. Scott said you would show me everything. But I just wandered
in there, and he found me and showed me the dear little boudoir. He said
you were going to have it done up."
"So I am," said Eustace. "Everything that belongs to you must be new.
Have you decided what colour will suit you best?"
They were passing through the long drawing-room towards the curtained
doorway that led into the little boudoir. The drawing-room was a palatial
apartment with stately French furniture that Dinah surveyed with awe. She
could not picture herself as hostess in so magnificent a setting. She
could only think of Rose de Vigne. It would have suited her flawless
beauty perfectly, and she knew that Rose's self-contained heart would
have revelled in such an atmosphere.
But it made her feel a stranger, and she hastened through it to the
cosier nest beyond.
This was a far more homely spot. The furniture here was French also, and
exquisitely delicate; but it was designed for comfort, and the gilded
state of the outer room was wholly absent.
A tea-table stood near a deeply-cushioned settee, and the kettle sang
merrily over a spirit-lamp.
Eustace dropped on to the settee and drew her suddenly and wholly
unexpectedly down upon his knee.
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