Miss Bass was a large lady with a certain presence. One felt that she was about to say “This way please”—an impression that was fortified, when the elevator doors disclosed her, by the fact that she was standing, upright and expectant, with a document in her hand. She got in, raking the car as she did so with a hostile stare. Her mouth was firmly set, as if to keep back warmer words than those she habitually spoke, and her protuberant eyes were slightly belligerent, as if repressing tears.

Lidia knew her well, having once worked on a report for which Miss Bass was responsible. This was a Report on the Horizontal Coordination of Community Programs, for Miss Bass was a member of the Department of Social and Anthropological Questions.

“Hello Millicent.”

“Haven’t seen you for a while, Lidia.” Miss Bass squeezed in next to the girl in orange and, as far as she was able to do so, looked Lidia up and down. “You’re far too thin,” she announced. (She had the unreflective drawl of her profession, a voice loud yet exhausted.)

When the elevator disgorged them at the cafeteria, Miss Bass completed her scrutiny of Lidia. “You spend too much money on clothes.”

Lidia was pondering the interesting fact that these two remarks, when reversed (“You are far too fat” and “You should spend more money on clothes”), are socially impermissible, when Millicent took her off guard by suggesting they lunch together. Rather than betray herself by that fractional hesitation which bespeaks dismay, she accepted heartily. Oh God how ghastly, she said to herself, dropping a selection of forks, knives, and spoons loudly onto a tray.

As they pushed their trays along, Millicent Bass inquired, “How much does a dress like that cost?” When Lidia was silent, she went on handsomely, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I know that, thought Lidia. It’s being asked that annoys me.

“This all right for you?” Millicent asked her as they seated themselves near the windows. Lidia nodded, looking around and seeing Bekkus deep in conversation with a colleague at the adjacent table. They transferred their dishes from the tray and placed their handbags on a spare chair. Millicent also had her document, much annotated about the margins, which she pushed to the vacant side of the table. “I was going to run through that,” she said regretfully. She unfolded a paper napkin in her lap and passed Lidia the salt. “Those codfish cakes look good.”