Books, in which she may show her sense. And we never used to have the sword here."
"The sword looks well, though."
"Magnificent."
"Yes, doesn't it?"
"Where's the piano, Meg?"
"I warehoused that in London. Why?"
"Nothing."
"Curious, too, that the carpet fits."
"The carpet's a mistake," announced Helen. "I know that we had it in London, but this floor ought to be bare. It is far too beautiful."
"You still have a mania for under-furnishing. Would you care to come into the dining-room before you start? There's no carpet there.
They went in, and each minute their talk became more natural.
"Oh, what a place for mother's chiffonier!" cried Helen.
"Look at the chairs, though."
"Oh, look at them! Wickham Place faced north, didn't it?"
"North-west."
"Anyhow, it is thirty years since any of those chairs have felt the sun. Feel. Their little backs are quite warm."
"But why has Miss Avery made them set to partners? I shall just—"
"Over here, Meg. Put it so that any one sitting will see the lawn."
Margaret moved a chair. Helen sat down in it.
"Ye-es. The window's too high."
"Try a drawing-room chair."
"No, I don't like the drawing-room so much. The beam has been match-boarded. It would have been so beautiful otherwise."
"Helen, what a memory you have for some things! You're perfectly right. It's a room that men have spoilt
