"There! cried Rosemary, as they reached her beautiful big bedroom. "Come and sit down," she said, pulling her big chair up to the fire. "Come and get warm. You look so terribly cold."
"I daren't, madam," hesitated the girl.
"Oh, please," - Rosemary ran forward - "you mustn't be frightened, you mustn't, really." And gently she half pushed the thin figure into the chair.
There was a whisper that sounded like "Very good, madam," and the worn hat was taken off.
"And let me help you off with your coat, too," said Rosemary.
The girl stood up. But she held on to the chair with one hand and let Rosemary pull.
Then she said quickly, but so lightly and strangely: "I'm very sorry, madam, but I'm going to faint. I shall fall, madam, if I don't have something."
"Good heavens, how thoughtless I am!" Rosemary rushed to the bell.
"Tea! Tea at once! And some brandy immediately."
The maid was gone and the girl almost burst into tears. She forgot to be shy, forgot everything except that they were both women, and cried out: "I can't go on any longer like this. I can't stand it. I wish I were dead. I really can't stand it!"
"You won't have to. I'll look after you. I'll arrange something. Do stop crying. Please."
The other did stop just in time for Rosemary to get up before the tea came.
And really the effect of that slight meal was amazing. When the tea-table was carried away, a new girl, a light creature with dark lops and deep eyes lay back in the big chair.