“Well, go along then.” Mrs. Smiles patted the spangled coat sleeve with a proprietary air. “Of course I like it, Celia,” she declared, “I knew I should. And that hairdresser knows how to get the right effect. Just like the girl in the shop.”
“I’m glad it’s a success.” Miss Warren laughed down at her employer.
Mrs. Smiles took her in, from the curls of her topknot to the lacquer on her fingernails that matched the paint on her lips. She said: “It’s just right. Did the slippers come?”
Miss Warren put out a foot in what looked like a fragment of green-and-gold net.
“The girl’s her hobby,” thought Gamadge.
Miss Warren led the way for him across the room, and through an archway in the north-west corner of it. As they entered a little oblong space which communicated with the hall by an arch
