Well, at last they were all chosen. Lady Klein, beaming gratitude, conducted Mary and Margaret to one of the best bedrooms, loaded them with clothes, old lace, brooches, everything for makeup.

“Just use anything you like.”

“Thank you so much. We won’t be long.”

Mary sat down at the glass and began doing her hair. Margaret was listlessly inspecting the pile of scarves and shawls. Abruptly she exclaimed:

“Why the hell doesn’t he write, or something?”

Mary went on steadily brushing. She said soothingly:

“Edward was never a model correspondent.”

“Oh, I know.… But this time it’s different.” Margaret’s voice was shaking. “Mary, what do you think has happened?”

“My dear, what can possibly have happened?”

“Oh, God knows. Anything. Everything. In the state he’s in.”

Mary twisted her hair into a bun:

“We’re certain to hear to-morrow.”

“My God—I can’t wait much longer.”

Mary rose from the mirror with a sigh. Margaret sat huddled on the bed, her shoulders shaking with sobs. She was fraying the border of her handkerchief with her teeth.

“If you like, I’ll tell them you’re feeling a bit rotten. Eaten too much caviare. You stay here. We’ll manage somehow without you.”

“Thanks awfully, Mary. But I shall be all right in a minute. I am a fool to behave like this.”

Mary rummaged in her bag:

“’Ave a drop of Mother’s curse?”

Margaret gulped at the flask. Then she came over to the glass, dabbing at her eyes.

“Gosh, don’t I look bloody awful?”

*   *   *

“I say, Eric. There’s something I want to ask you as a very great favour.”

The party was breaking up. Eric had watched Maurice telling his girl to wait for him for a second and come hurrying across the room. He couldn’t help smiling a little in anticipation.

“What is it?”

“Well, you see, Eric, it’s like this—you know I always get off very unexpectedly—to-day, for instance, I hadn’t an idea until I saw my boss at half-past twelve that I could wangle a night in Town—as it is, I’ve got to be back at the Works at nine to-morrow—and, as you know, it’s nearly the end of the month and I don’t like to keep asking Mary——”

“How much do you want?” said Eric, smiling.

“Well——”

He could see that Maurice was wondering if he still remembered that other little favour, not to mention a ten-shilling note, “just until I get change,” the day they’d all gone out together in the car. Eric felt so sorry for Maurice in his embarrassment that he hastened to say:

“I’m afraid I’ve only got £2 on me and some silver. Will that be enough?”

Maurice’s face cleared with relief:

“Rather. Thanks most awfully, Eric.” He grinned and added, with an air of great candour: “I haven’t forgotten the—the other, as well, you know.”