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 came rather pale and subdued, and, I think, a bit resentful that her prediction had not been fulfilled and that nothing awful had happend to her in the night on the roof. It was only just seven o'clock, but from the noise that was going on in the hotel, everyone seemed to be up and about. So I got up too. The only thing that I really enjoyed about my stay in that Bombay hotel was the luxury of a bathroom, adjoining my bedroom, all to myself. There was no furtive slinking along passages thickly populated with unknown doors on either side, no undignified scurrying at the sight of a man at the other end, no leaning over banisters anxiously watching one's chance and finally running a dead heat with the lady you particularly disliked from the floor below. I cannot think why people don't take to building houses in this style at home. If you have ever once enjoyed the luxury of a bathroom attached to your bedroom all to yourself, you will never be happy again with a bathroom at the end of the passage or on the floor below. Neither Lady Manifold nor Marjory appeared at breakfast, and I hurried back to my room to hunt out one of my smartest frocks and hats—something not too gay but quite smart enough for a quiet wedding. For, of course, when it came to the point, there really wasn't any question of my going to Boy's wedding. I was even going to be quite sweet to Fluffy. I had vague notions of helping her back along the road to social success, and all sorts of nice things on Boy's behalf.