She almost laughs aloud.

She looks like a Japanese young woman.
And it's very pretty, too--she _does_ look nice in this way.

What a pity nobody can see her! And with this little new white dressing-gown, too! Such a little dream of a thing! Where's Maurice?
Surely he must have come up by this time.

Some of the men had gone into the smoking-room on their return; but it is so late--with the dawn breaking; perhaps Maurice _has_ come up.
She crosses a little passage and goes to the door leading into his room, and knocks lightly; no answer.

She knocks again, more impatiently this time, and as still only silence follows her attempt, she opens the door and steps on tiptoe into the room.
It is lit by two or more lamps, and at the end of it, close to a hanging curtain, stands Maurice in his trousers and shirt, having evidently just flung off his evening coat.
"Oh, here you are!" cries she with open delight.