Marigold spends the following days in busying herself with various pursuits, acting oblivious to the passage of time. Today in particular is a time for writing: she decided to keep a growth diary for the vegetable patch she began planting yesterday. As she sketches, her thoughts wander idly. The provisions might come in a day or two, or it might even come today—she never kept track. She does not know how trustworthy the delivery person from the guild could be. She might lie if necessary; perhaps she will pretend to be Steven's cousin. Or his woman.

"Madness!" She censures herself aloud. She erases her whole sketch and proceeds to draw it again. After just finishing sketching, she grows bored of the activity and sets the diary aside. She stands up from her seat and paces about the living room.

‘Peace can become dull at times, it seems,’ she ponders.

Now that she has been given so much time for reflection, she can surely look back on those days at Henrietta’s shop as truly happy, busy, purposeful days. In this house, time passes slowly. There are a lot of things she can be preoccupied with, and she now has all the time she needs without being in want for money, food, or shelter, but she craves human company.

The idea of living with Steven made her ill at ease, and when the young man did not follow through on it, she was relieved. Nevertheless, it still makes her feel lonely, abandoned even.

“It is still considerate of you, but don’t speak of it if you never intended to do so!” she complains to no one. Did her words fail to reach him then? They were certainly not compliments.

She remembers Steven only warning her against coming to town. Greeting the neighbors should not be dangerous, but Marigold may actually be more wary than Steven. The girl sighs deeply. She might as well let herself be absorbed in a thick book to forget her solitude. And where else could be a better place to find books than in Steven’s room? She turns on her heel, and takes strides towards the boy’s bedroom door.

She props her hands on her hips. “I suppose waiting a few days before poking my nose here is courteous enough,” she once again says aloud. She grabs and twists the doorknob, expecting to find it locked. Instead, it opens easily. Leaving his room unlocked is quite uncharacteristic of Steven, but then Marigold recalls him heading out in a hurry. ‘Maybe he just forgot—in any case, the situation is in my favor,’ she tells herself as she rushes inside.

Just as she has imagined, Steven’s room is a model of cleanliness and order. The bed is made; the floor is polished; the books are arranged neatly in the shelves and the desk is free of any clutter. If she saw this earlier, she would have been all the more smitten with the lad. She may have idealized him a few weeks ago, but now that she is more aware of her emotions, what is more apparent to her now are her suspicions growing underneath.

'What if he has something to hide? This room is too clean.' She cannot help but think. 'Perhaps... I shouldn't leave any trace of me being here.'

She resolves to do this despite having an intent as innocent as borrowing a few books. She kneels to look through the low shelves and browse the spines. After settling on three long novels, she rearranges the rest of books to hide the gaps left by the ones she borrowed. At least, Steven will not be able to tell from a glance.

Now that she has accomplished her task, she debates on whether she should leave the room or stay longer. She exits the chamber and deposits the books in her bedroom. Then she makes sure the front and back doors are latched, so if somebody, particularly Steven, comes, she can have a bit of time to escape. After doing these, she returns to Steven's room.

At first, she is tempted to check the bed. But the bed is the easiest to disturb and making it appear untouched will be difficult. Besides, even if Marigold were to hide anything important in her bed, she would put it inside the pillows or the mattress, so that they would have to be cut open first. She assumes that Steven would think similarly. She settles with peeking under the bed, and finds nothing of note as expected.

She opens his closet. Clothes are neatly arranged in the same fashion as everything else in the room. She checks the pockets of the hung coats and trousers, grasps underneath the pile of folded clothing and comes up empty. Then she fixes the contents to the best of her ability before shutting the closet.

She should search the bookshelves, but opening the books one by one and putting them back in their original order will be a tedious, time-consuming exercise. She decides to do it at a later time.

Then she proceeds to the immaculate desk, the piece of furniture that strikes her as most suspicious. There is nothing to see on its surface, but the contents of the drawer may tell a different story. Luck seems to be on Marigold's side for not only did Steven leave his room unlocked, he also left his drawer in the same way. The drawer, however, is empty save for a little jewelled pendant.

Marigold is intrigued.

She uses almost all of her self-restraint in trying not to touch the necklace out of curiosity. The pendant is in the likeness of a rose, with little gems, possibly rubies and emeralds, embedded on a flat golden base. The inch-and-a-half long pendant is held by a thin gold chain.

"How pretty," the girl whispers. This is what Steven is hiding—and it is not even in an obscure place in the room. Marigold's heart sinks a little once again.

'He has someone in mind. Indeed, I should have known.'

She closes the drawer, checks every corner of the room, and leaves.