Dutifully, she marked the room and its high windows, the smell of fresh paint lingering in the room. But it did not excite her—it should have, but her focus was decidedly upon Charles Macmillan and what, she assumed, lay within his pocket instead.

"An excellent space, indeed," she affirmed with a quick smile, "though I should like to see other rooms as well—the library comes to mind, or perhaps the nursery?"