“Good night, dear,” she said cordially to Lydia, who responded as cordially, with her readiest smile. Already she guessed that Miss Saxon was willing to make a bid for her friendship, in the new-born apprehension that the tide of partisanship was turning rapidly in Gina’s favour.
With Gina, the advance was even easier. It was long after closing hours when she finally emerged from Madame Elena’s room, and then she was not alone. Madame Elena, in the immense be-plumed hat and long suède gloves that she always affected, preceded her.
“Lydia! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed sharply.
“I’ve finished those Paris model tickets, Madame Elena,” said Lydia meekly.
She had printed over two dozen cards whilst she waited, it being one of the sign manuals of the establishment to display all such tickets in elaborate fancy letterings.
“You haven’t!”
Madame Elena made one of her rapid, swooping movements, and snatched up a handful of the cards, miraculously avoiding those on which the ink was still wet.
“Now I call that charming,” said Madame Elena, with genuine enthusiasm. “First class. How on earth did you manage to get the letters all different and so straight! But don’t stay overtime another evening like that. You may find yourself locked in.”
She nodded and passed out of the side door, demonstratively waiting for the two girls, in order to lock it behind her.
“I get in here,” she said, pausing where a long row of omnibuses was drawn up beside the kerb. “Good night, girls.”