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‘O dear, oh dear’, said Alice rubbing her eyes and pushing away the shower of leaves which had awoken her. ‘I had such a queer dream that I was the Empress of India. Rosemary! Now where has that tiresome girl gone? I had quite forgotten I had dismissed her! For such impudence too. Ah, here she is – with her suitcase packed I am glad to see.’ Alice sounded quite severe as her maid came into the room, with her shawl and bonnet, ready to leave. She was deferential, almost obsequious, Alice was glad to note. ‘You called me, Ma'am?’ ‘Before you go – there is still half an hour before the last train so you have plenty of time just gather up these leaves which have blown in through the window you so carelessly left open.’ The maid put down her case and shawl before falling on her knees to gather up the mess. She was attractive, Alice had to admit; indeed her attractiveness had been ‘the last straw’, for she had appealed so strongly to Roland, Alice's husband, that his wayward glances lingered, in Alice's opinion, a shade too long upon her features. Misgivings that she had been unfair awoke at the sight of the slim kneeling figure gathering up the leaves. They were stifled; ‘her behaviour to poor Tom was really quite intolerable’.
‘I've cleared it all, Ma'am’, she said at last, ‘can I go now?’ Alice was almost ready to let her go when Rosemary added, ‘It is almost time now and they do say it is the last train’. Alice, herself famous for her beauty, allowed the compassion in her expression to relax into its customary insolence. ‘Let me look at what you have gathered’, she said, taking the leaves from Rosemary's nervous hands. She was aware that the leaves which she was scrutinizing with deliberate slowness were the pages of a dismembered Bible.