Miss Ruth... Who had ever called her Miss Ruth? If people liked her, they called her by her name. Just that. As for the others, well, she had been called many things in her life, and her own fast tongue could hurl back an insult or two before she even had time to feel the sting.

But everything was lovely here. She watched the maid fill the tub with water right from the wall. Little goosebumps of delight spread over her arms in anticipation of the warm water. When the maid held out the tray, her eyes turned from the soap to the face of the young woman as if to gauge whether she was serious. Of course she was. Ruth mentally scolded herself. She shouldn't act like this was all new to her. She was supposed to act like this was her own world.

Ruth turned her attention back to the soap. She took several and smelled them. Then when she held an orange and yellow bar under her nose, she smiled. "I'll use this one," she said. It was a warm smell, the sweet fragrance of orange, mixed with hints of cinnamon, perhaps pepper, and spices she didn't know. She placed it on the side of the tub. Then she moved back into the bedroom and began unlacing the dress. "How long have you been here?" she called back to the maid.