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She sat down on her bed wondering whether her luggage would be brought up or whether she would have to go in search of it. She knew there was no service beyond the weekly cleaning of her room and the providing of meals. There had been no maid visible in the hall, and none would ever come. There were no bells to ring. Some time she would have to capture her chambermaid and see what could be done with her. She took some soap out of her bag and a towel off the rack, and walked out to the bathroom. A porter was dragging her largest trunk down the hall linoleum.

“Fine,” she said as he came up to her. “I was wondering what I should do about it.”

He straightened his back, and to her surprise touched his forehead. She looked into the approving blue eyes of a thin, seedy Irishman whose favourite occupation was advertised somewhat blatantly in the colour of his nose.

“Ah, and it’s the heat you’ve brought, miss,” he said, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“More than usual?”

“Shure. It has been cool till this. I’m thinking it won’t be very comfortable here for a lady.”

“I shall be all right. I can be all right anywhere. Do you belong to the house?”

“Indeed and I do.”

“Fine. If I get into any trouble I’ll come to you. What’s your name?”

“It’s Michael O’Shay I am, miss. And I’ll tell Nancy to take the good care of you. I’ll be after her when I go down.”

“No, no, thanks. Don’t do that. The girls are probably resting now, and if they are not they ought to be.