Mrs. Saunders looked as though she felt this could not be true, but she looked gratified.
By the time Zelda had looked round the boudoir, her cases had been placed in her bedroom.
She had locked them, so the housemaids had not yet been able to unpack.
“If you’ll give my girls the keys,” Mrs. Saunders suggested, “they’ll unpack for you.”
“That is very kind of you,” Zelda replied, “but as I may not be staying long, I would rather unpack myself and just take out the things I will need.”
She had been carrying in her hand the bag in which she had put the wig, the make-up box, the hand mirror and the spectacles she was wearing on her nose.
She knew it would be a mistake for the housemaids to investigate her belongings just in case they thought what they found was strange.
She had put in a
