He was laconic.
“Well, you see, miss, we’ve all got digestions, but not many of us have taste.”
Her next attempt was to dispose of some of her dress designs, and since she had become familiar at Miss Champion’s with the names of certain firms who were willing to buy such creations, she knew where to find a possible market. It seemed wiser to call in person than to send the designs by post, and she spent a whole day trying to interview responsible persons in West End establishments. One firm rebuffed her with the frank statement that they were over-supplied with such creations. At two other places she was told to leave her designs to be looked at. At her last attempt she succeeded in obtaining an interview with a hungry-looking and ill-tempered elderly woman who was writing letters in a little glass-panelled office at the back of a big shop.
Eve disliked the woman from the first glance, but she was grateful to her for having taken the trouble to give her an interview.
“I wondered whether Messrs. Smith might have any use for designs for new spring and summer frocks?”
The woman looked at her from under cunning eyelids.
“Sit down. Let me see.”
Eve unwrapped the drawings and handed them to the person in authority, who glanced through them as though she were shuffling a pack of cards.
“Had any technical training? Not much, I think.”
“I have lived in Paris.”