When they reached it,
the little creature fell half fainting upon it. But she controlled
herself by an astonishing effort, thanked Victoria in Italian, and
curling herself up in a corner she closed her eyes. The white profile on
the dark sofa cushion was of a most delicate perfection, and as Victoria
helped to remove her hat she saw a small dark head covered with short
curls like a boy's.
Netta Melrose looked round the beautiful room, its pictures, its deep
sofas and chairs, its bright fire, and then at the figures of Victoria
and the housekeeper in the distance. Victoria was giving her orders. The
tears were on Netta's cheeks. Yet she had the vague, ineffable feeling of
one just drawn from the waves. She had done right. She had saved herself
and Felicia.
Food was brought, and wine. They were coaxed to eat, warmed and
comforted. Then Victoria took them up through the broad, scented passages
of the beautiful house to rooms that had been got ready for them.
"Don't talk any more to-night. You shall tell me everything to-morrow. My
maid will help you. I will come back presently to see you have everything
you want."
Felicia, frowning, wished to unpack their small hand-bag, with its shabby
contents, for herself. But she was too feeble, and the maid, in spite of
what seemed to the two forlorn ones her fine clothes and fine ways, was
kind and tactful. Victoria's wardrobe was soon laid under contribution;
beautiful linen, and soft silken things she possessed but seldom wore,
were brought out for her destitute guests.
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