"I know it does. But I don't like it. You make me think of Lady Macbeth
in that. Besides, it's much too splendid for ordinary occasions. Yes,
that pale mauve is exquisite. You will look lovely in that. And this
maize suits you too. But you look positively dangerous in red."

"I must leave the business of selection to you, it seems," laughed
Violet. "Well, I am to be your guest, so you shall make your own choice.
By the way, how shall I get to Weir? Mrs. Bruce has the car, and will
probably not return till late. And Bruce is using the dog-cart. That
only leaves the luggage-cart for me."

"I'll fly round to Redlands for the motor. Nick won't mind. You get your
things packed while I'm gone."

Olga deposited an armful of her friend's belongings upon the bed, and
turned to go.

Nick's property of Redlands was less than a mile away, and all that Nick
possessed was at her disposal. In fact, she had almost come to look upon
Redlands as a second home. It would not take her long to run across to
the garage and fetch the little motor which Nick himself had taught her
years ago to drive. Lightly she ran down the oak stairs and through the
echoing hall once more. The vault-like chill of the place struck her
afresh as she passed to the open door. And again involuntarily she
shivered, quickening her steps, eager to leave the clammy atmosphere
behind.

Passing into the hot sunshine beyond the great nail-studded door was
like entering another world. She turned her face up to the brightness
and rejoiced.