might find it peculiarly disagreeable to be stared at.

"Look at Nanna," he whispered, to distract her attention. "There's no
doubt about her being glad to see you."

Nanna grasped the hands held out to her, hanging her head on one side,
and smiling her tremorous, bashful smile. The other two, Kate and Mary,
came forward, affectionate, but more self-contained. Anne realised with a
curious surprise that she was coming back to a household that she knew,
that knew her and loved her. In the last week she had forgotten Prior
Street.

Majendie watched her anxiously. But she, too, had qualities which could
be relied on. As she passed into the house she had held her head high,
with an air of flinging back the tragic gloom like a veil from her face.
She was not a woman to trail a tragedy up and down the staircase. Above
all, he could trust her trained loyalty to convention.

The servants threw open two doors on the ground floor, and stood back
expectant. On such an occasion it was proper to look pleased and to give
praise. Anne was fine in her observance of each propriety as she looked
into the rooms prepared for her. The house in Prior Street had not lost
its simple old-world look in beautifying itself for the bride. It had put
on new blinds and clean paint, and the smell of spring flowers was
everywhere. The rest was familiar. She had told Majendie that she liked
the old things best. They appealed to her sense of the fit and the
refined; they were signs of good taste and good breeding in her husband's
family and in himself. The house was a survival, a protest against the
terrible all-invading soul of Scale on Humber.