Marriage At Murraree. Margaret Way

in from the verandah. For a few disoriented moments she couldn’t think where she was. She’d never slept in such a beautiful room in her life. Never slept between crisp white sheets that puffed up an exquisite aroma as she moved. It wasn’t any fragrance she knew. Not the usual lavender, gardenia or rose. She would have to ask what it was.

      She swung her long legs out of the bed, curling her toes on the pale green carpet. The guest room had such a fresh airy feel. It had only just been redecorated, she’d been told. The wallpaper was a wide cream and pale green stripe. The drapes a cream sheer that moved gently in the breeze. The circular bedside tables were covered in the same soft green, almost a lime. Taffeta decorated around the hem with silk tassels, matching the shades on the bedside lamps. The quilt and the scatter cushions introduced harmonious pinks and blues. Very good watercolours hung on the walls. There was a daybed, near the French doors and an upholstered bench at the end of the bed. A little writing table with a chair.