“You bet your life,” he said. “It looks pretty lousy now, but wait till it has got all its war paint on.”
The Manager liked Fiona, her looks and manner and he had told Paul so on his first introduction. After a quick appraising look, he held out his hand.
“Okay! She will do us fine, just what we wanted, eh, Paul?”
And there passed between them a quick look of understanding.
Fiona’s first bad impression of the Club was quickly swept away when she entered it on its opening night.
She was, of course, very early, a little excited and flurried as to whether the whole thing would be the success that Paul and its Manager anticipated.
When she arrived, there was no one there. She had entered by the customer’s entrance, a door guarded by a huge commissionaire and a small man at a desk with a
