“Elegant.” She watched him survey himself in the mirror. “You ought to try store clothes more often.” She dodged. “Go on and drink. I’ll get along faster without you. Where do we meet?”
“On the terrace.”
She took a last survey of her hair and lipstick by the deepening twilight window, and she saw Con’s length below on the path behind the bushes. He wasn’t with Dare. She leaned out. It looked amazingly as if he were with the dreadful Mr. Smithery. But surely it couldn’t be he. Chang would have to be on duty at the Bamboo Bar on a Saturday night.
She caught up her evening coat, locked the door after her. The corridor was dim lit, down one angular flight to the first floor. She had to cross through the glassed supplementary dining room to reach the terrace. She thought she recognized the f
