The manager hesitated, then he decided that there was nothing he could do about it. He told off a couple of the girls and they went from cubicle to cubicle.
In five minutes about six women, in wraps, were standing indignantly before Clancy, who looked as if he were going out of his mind. Myra wasn’t among them.
While he was staring at them, I wandered round looking at the wax models. I began to suspect where Myra was hiding. Sure enough, one of them looked familiar. I looked again and Myra met my eyes imploringly. She had on a smart black frock and a large floppy hat which hid her face. Standing with the other models, it was impossible to spot who she was until you got right up to her.
“Go away,” Myra hissed. “Don’t look at me.”
“But I must look at you,” I said in an undertone. “I love you for one thing and you look terrific for another. Are you scared, sweetheart?”
“Terribly,” she said. “But, do go away.”
“I’m going,” I said, “but I’ll be back.”
As I turned away, one of the saleswomen came to me.
“Hello,” she said.
I looked at her and paused. She was a red-head. Now, I like red heads. I like them particularly if they have a nice creamy skin, green eyes and a lot of curves. This one had everything, so I said, “Hullo,” and raised my hat.