Chapter Two
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At about this time Stephen first became conscious of an urgent necessity to love. She adored her father, but that was quite different; he was part of herself, he had always been there, she could not envisage the world without him—it was other with Collins, the housemaid. Collins was what was called 'second of three'; she might one day hope for promotion. Meanwhile she was florid, full-lipped and full-bosomed, rather ample indeed for a young girl of twenty, but her eyes were unusually blue and arresting, very pretty inquisitive eyes. Stephen had seen Collins sweeping the stairs for two years, and had passed her by quite unnoticed; but one morning, when Stephen was just over seven, Collins looked up and suddenly smiled, then all in a moment Stephen knew that she loved her—a staggering revelation!
Collins said politely: 'Good morning. Miss Stephen.'
She had always said: 'Good morning, Miss Stephen,' but on this occasion it sounded alluring—so alluring that Stephen wanted to touch her, and extending a rather uncertain hand she started to stroke her sleeve.
Collins picked up the hand and stared at it. 'Oh, my!' she exclaimed, 'what very dirty nails!' Whereupon their owner flushed painfully crimson and dashed upstairs to repair them.
'Put them scissors down this minute, Miss Stephen!' came the nurse’s peremptory voice, while her charge was still busily engaged on her toilet.
But Stephen said firmly: 'I'm cleaning my nails 'cause Collins doesn’t like them—she says they’re dirty!'
'What impudence!' snapped the nurse, thoroughly annoyed. 'I'll thank her to mind her own business!'
Having finally secured the large cutting-out scissors, Mrs. Bingham went forth in search of the offender; she was not one to tolerate any
interference with the dignity of her status. She found Collins still on
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