It was a matter of weeks, this mood of indignant despair, of baffled
powerlessness in face of reality. And each night, after such a lonely
walk, in such a vehement mood, Sally would return to the miserable room
in which for the present she was to spend her life. It was at the back
of the house, on the second floor, and there was another floor above.
The room had a stained ceiling and a wallpaper that had discoloured in
streaks. The original pattern had been of small flowers on a
pseudo-primrose background. Now all was merged in a general stagnation
of Cambridge blue and coffee colour. Mrs. Minto had carefully put the
washstand beneath a patch that had been washed nearly white by splashes;
and Sally had insisted that it should stand in another part of the room.
"But that's where a washstand's stood before," wailed Mrs. Minto.
"That's _why_," explained Sally, brutally. "Put the chest-of-drawers
there. _I_ don't want to splash exactly where other people have
splashed. Not likely! The place ought to have been papered new."

When their bed and the washstand and a table and the chairs and
chest-of-drawers were in there was not much to arrange. Nor was there
room for very much, because the bed took up about a quarter of the
space. The Mintos had no pictures. They thus anticipated the best modern
taste. But the consequence was that if Sally happened to be irritable
she saw the wallpaper, and the wallpaper drove her crazy. It was a
constant exasperation to her. Her extremely good taste was beginning to
bud, and wallpaper is as vital an aesthetic test as any other. She had
not yet the power or the knowledge to dress effectively, but she was
already learning intuitively such things as harmony and colour-values.
She gave an eye to neatness and cleanliness, and knew how to riddle the
costumes of girls of her own class, beginning with May Pearcey. She also
was becoming aware of all Miss Jubb's deficiencies. Higher than her own
class she could not well go, because she never had opportunities for
seeing well-dressed women. It was so much the Minto habit to rise late
on Sundays, to sit about during the afternoon, and to go out only when
other people were generally indoors, that Sundays were wasted days.
Moreover, Sally had not in the past thought much of other girls. She had
thought only of boys. Even her new spruceness was a comparatively recent
manifestation. She was growing.

She was growing so fast that her old knowledges had been