“I don’t know how you could have the nerve to put such a proposition to me. I may be many things, but shabby I’m not—and to let this place down now would be shabby in the extreme. You think money can buy anything. That’s astonishing for a man your age.”

The reply was muffled. But Lorna’s retort came over loud and clear. “I don’t care if your life depends on it, never mind your pathetic little business. I intend to play tonight and no amount of money is going to change my mind. Now, take yourself out of here before I have you removed. Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this, I’m sure the world will be delighted to hear how you conduct your business affairs.”

The man stormed off furiously down the corridor, past Lindsay’s hiding place. She leaned against the wall, exasperated with the melodramatic excesses that the weekend seemed to be producing. All Lindsay wanted to do was to get inside the skin of this school to write a decent piece. But every time she thought she was making some headway, some absurdly histrionic confrontation spoiled her perspective. Either that or, as happened even as the thought came into her head, Cordelia Brown appeared out of nowhere and reduced her to a twitchy adolescent.

Cordelia had just finished the auctioneering and had decided to slip out through the backstage area and down the back stairs behind the music rooms. “Hey,” she said when she saw Lindsay, “the only reason I came through this way was to avoid you journos. But here I am, caught again.”

“Sorry, it’s my nose for a scoop. I just can’t help it. But I wasn’t actually looking for you, honestly. Simply poking around,” said Lindsay contritely.

“Don’t apologize. I was only joking. You must never take me seriously; I’m incorrigibly frivolous. Lots of people hate me for it. Don’t you be one, please.” Cordelia smiled anxiously, yet with a certain assurance. She was sharp enough to see the effect she had on Lindsay, but was trying not to exploit it; she never found it easy to guard her tongue, however. “By the way,” she went on, “what on earth possessed you to spend all that money on my book? I’d have given you a copy if you’d asked.”

Lindsay mumbled, “Oh, I don’t have the book—though I’ve read it of course. It seemed to be for a good cause at the time.”

“Oh-oh, the young socialist changes her tune!” A glance at Lindsay’s face was enough to make her add, “Sorry, Lindsay, I don’t mean to be cheap. Look, hand it over and I’ll stick a few words in it if you want.”