'How is it?
How do I look?'
I did not wait for her answer, I twisted and turned in front of the mirror, I frowned, I smiled.
I felt different already, no longer hampered by my appearance.
My own dull personality was submerged at last.
'Give me the wig,' I said excitedly, 'careful, don't crush it, the curls mustn't be flat.
They are supposed to stand out from the face.'
Clarice stood behind my shoulder, I saw her round face beyond mine in the reflection of the looking-glass, her eyes shining, her mouth a little open.
I brushed my own hair sleek behind my ears.
I took hold of the soft gleaming curls with trembling fingers, laughing under my breath, looking up at Clarice.
'Oh, Clarice,' I said, 'what will Mr de Winter say?'
I covered my own mousy hair with the curled wig, trying to hide my triumph, trying to hide my smile.
Somebody came and hammered on the door.
'Who's there?' I called in panic.
'You can't come in.'
'It's me, my dear, don't alarm yourself,' said Beatrice, 'how far have you got?
I want to look at you.'
'No, no,' I said, 'you can't come in, I'm not ready.'
The flustered Clarice stood beside me, her hand full of hairpins, while I took them from her one by one, controlling the curls that had become fluffed in the box.
'I'll come down when I am ready,' I called.
'Go on down, all of you.
Don't wait for me.
Tell Maxim he can't come in.'
'Maxim's down,' she said.
'He came along to us.
He said he hammered on your bathroom door and you never answered.
Don't be too long, my dear, we are all so intrigued.
Are you sure you don't want any help?'
'No,' I shouted impatiently, losing my head, 'go away, go on down.'
Why did she have to come and bother just at this moment?
It fussed me, I did not know what I was doing.
I jabbed with a hair-pin, flattening it against a curl.
I heard no more from Beatrice, she must have gone along the passage.
I wondered if she was happy in her Eastern robes and if Giles had succeeded in painting his face.
How absurd it was, the whole thing.
Why did we do it, I wonder, why were we such children?
I did not recognise the face that stared at me in the glass.
The eyes were larger surely, the mouth narrower, the skin white and clear?
The curls stood away from the head in a little cloud.
I watched this self that was not me at all and then smiled; a new, slow smile.
'Oh, Clarice!' I said.
'Oh, Clarice!'
I took the skirt of my dress in my hands and curtseyed to her, the flounces sweeping the ground.
She giggled excitedly, rather embarrassed, flushed though, very pleased.
I paraded up and down in front of my glass watching my reflection.
'Unlock the door,' I said.
'I'm going down.
Run ahead and see if they are there.'
She obeyed me, still giggling, and I lifted my skirts off the ground and followed her along the corridor.
She looked back at me and beckoned.