She held out the paper for me to see.
It was the rough drawing I had done during the morning.
'No, Mrs Danvers,' I said, after a moment, 'it doesn't matter throwing that away.
It was only a rough sketch.
I don't want it.'
'Very good,' she said, 'I thought it better to enquire from you personally to save any misunderstanding.'
'Yes,' I said. 'Yes, of course.'
I thought she would turn and go, but she went on standing there by the door.
'So you have not decided yet what you will wear?' she said.
There was a hint of derision in her voice, a trace of odd satisfaction.
I supposed she had heard of my efforts through Clarice in some way.
'No,' I said. 'No, I haven't decided.'
She continued watching me, her hand on the handle of the door.
'I wonder you don't copy one of the pictures in the gallery,' she said.
I pretended to file my nails.
They were too short and too brittle, but the action gave me something to do and I did not have to look at her.
'Yes, I might think about that,' I said.
I wondered privately why such an idea had never come to me before.
It was an obvious and very good solution to my difficulty.
I did not want her to know this though.
I went on filing my nails.
'All the pictures in the gallery would make good costumes,' said Mrs Danvers, 'especially that one of the young lady in white, with her hat in her hand.
I wonder Mr de Winter does not make it a period ball, everyone dressed more or less the same, to be in keeping.
I never think it looks right to see a clown dancing with a lady in powder and patches.'
'Some people enjoy the variety,' I said. 'They think it makes it all the more amusing.'
'I don't like it myself,' said Mrs Danvers.
Her voice was surprisingly normal and friendly, and I wondered why it was she had taken the trouble to come up with my discarded sketch herself.
Did she want to be friends with me at last?
Or did she realise that it had not been me at all who had told Maxim about Favell, and this was her way of thanking me for my silence?
'Has not Mr de Winter suggested a costume for you?' she said.
'No,' I said, after a moment's hesitation.
'No, I want to surprise him and Mr Crawley.
I don't want them to know anything about it.'
'It's not for me to make a suggestion, I know,' she said, 'but when you do decide, I should advise you to have your dress made in London.
There is no one down here can do that sort of thing well.
Voce, in Bond Street, is a good place I know.'
'I must remember that,' I said.
'Yes,' she said, and then, as she opened the door, 'I should study the pictures in the gallery, Madam, if I were you, especially the one I mentioned.
And you need not think I will give you away.
I won't say a word to anyone.'
"Thank you, Mrs Danvers,' I said.
She shut the door very gently behind her.
I went on with my dressing, puzzled at her attitude, so different from our last encounter, and wondering whether I had the unpleasant Favell to thank for it.
Rebecca's cousin.
Why should Maxim dislike Rebecca's cousin?
Why had he forbidden him to come to Manderley?
Beatrice had called him a bounder.
She had not said much about him.
And the more I considered him the more I agreed with her.
Those hot blue eyes, that loose mouth, and the careless familiar laugh.