Lady Babs won't be too
pleased!" And ten minutes later she entered that white-walled room which
smelled of pinks-a temple of drowsy sweetness, where the summer light
was vaguely stealing through flowered chintz curtains.
Barbara was sleeping with her cheek on her hand, and her tawny hair,
gathered back, streaming over the pillow. Her lips were parted; and the
maid thought: "I'd like to have hair and a mouth like that!" She
could not help smiling to herself with pleasure; Lady Babs looked so
pretty--prettier asleep even than awake! And at sight of that beautiful
creature, sleeping and smiling in her sleep, the earthy, hothouse fumes
steeping the mind of one perpetually serving in an atmosphere unsuited
to her natural growth, dispersed. Beauty, with its queer touching power
of freeing the spirit from all barriers and thoughts of self, sweetened
the maid's eyes, and kept her standing, holding her breath. For Barbara
asleep was a symbol of that Golden Age in which she so desperately
believed. She opened her eyes, and seeing the maid, said:
"Is it eight o'clock, Stacey?"
"No, but Lady Casterley wants you to walk with her."
"Oh! bother! I was having such a dream!"
"Yes; you were smiling."
"I was dreaming that I could fly."
"Fancy!"
"I could see everything spread out below me, as close as I see you; I
was hovering like a buzzard hawk.
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