'Yes, Nelly, how are you?' Victoria put out her gloved hand. Nelly took it wonderingly.
'I'm all right,' she answered slowly. 'Just been made head waitress,' she added with some unction. Her eyes were roving over Victoria's clothes, valuing them like an expert.
'Congratulations,' said Victoria. 'Glad you're getting on.'
'I see you're getting on,' said Nelly, with a touch of sarcasm.
'So, so, things aren't too bad.' Victoria looked up. The women's eyes crossed like rapiers; Nelly's were full of suspicion. The conversation stopped then, for Nelly was already in request in half a dozen quarters.
'She knows,' said Victoria smoothly.
'Of course,' said Farwell. 'Trust a woman to know the worst about another and to show it up. Every little helps in a contest such as life.'
Farwell then questioned her as to her situation, but she refused him all details.
'No,' she said, 'not here. There's Nelly watching us, and Maud has just been told. Betty's been shifted, I know, and I suppose Mary and Jennie are gone, but there's the manageress and some of the girls upstairs. I've nearly done. Let me return the invitation. Dine with me to-night. . .' She was going to say 'at home,' but changed her mind to the prudent course. . . . 'at, well, anywhere you like. Whereabouts do you live, Mr Farwell?'
'I live in the Waterloo Road,' said Farwell, 'an artery named after the playing fields of Eton.'