were your'--she glanced at the mirror--'elder sister, I couldn't be
fonder of you. Don't think I'm a horrid, interfering old thing,
will you?'

'Indeed I don't; you're a dear.'

'Well, we won't speak of it any more till after Tuesday,' said Madame
Frabelle, 'and take my advice: throw yourself into other things.'

She glanced round the room.

'It's a splendid idea to divert your thoughts; why don't you refurnish
your boudoir?'

Edith had often noticed the strange lack in Eglantine of any sense of
decoration. She dressed charmingly, but with regard to surroundings she
was entirely devoid of taste. She had the curious provincialism so often
seen in cosmopolitans who have lived most of their lives in hotels,
without apparently noticing or caring about their surroundings.

Edith made rather a hobby of decoration, and she had a cultured and
quiet taste, and much knowledge on the subject. She guessed Madame
Frabelle thought her rooms too plain, too colourless. Instead of the
dull greys and blues, and surfaces without design, she felt sure her
friend would have preferred gorgeous patterns, and even a good deal of
gilt. Probably at heart Madame Frabelle's ideal was the crimson plush
and stamped leather and fancy ceilings of the lounge in a foreign hotel.

'I rather like my room, you know,' said Edith.