Lady Babs won't be too pleased!" And ten minutes later she entered that white-walled room which smelled of pinks-a temple of drowsy sweetness, where the summer light was vaguely stealing through flowered chintz curtains.
Barbara was sleeping with her cheek on her hand, and her tawny hair, gathered back, streaming over the pillow.

Her lips were parted; and the maid thought: "I'd like to have hair and a mouth like that!" She could not help smiling to herself with pleasure; Lady Babs looked so pretty--prettier asleep even than awake! And at sight of that beautiful creature, sleeping and smiling in her sleep, the earthy, hothouse fumes steeping the mind of one perpetually serving in an atmosphere unsuited to her natural growth, dispersed.

Beauty, with its queer touching power of freeing the spirit from all barriers and thoughts of self, sweetened the maid's eyes, and kept her standing, holding her breath.

For Barbara asleep was a symbol of that Golden Age in which she so desperately believed.

She opened her eyes, and seeing the maid, said: "Is it eight o'clock, Stacey ?" "No, but Lady Casterley wants you to walk with her." "Oh! bother! I was having such a dream!" "Yes; you were smiling." "I was dreaming that I could fly." "Fancy!" "I could see everything spread out below me, as close as I see you; I was hovering like a buzzard hawk.