“What?”
“The poor lady adored him and bored him to frenzy.”
The clock on the mantelpiece struck the half-hour after six. Lydia rose. She must go home and dress. She was dining with Rooke at Claridge’s at eight.
“I’m so glad we’ve had this little talk,” she said. “I felt I must tell you.”
“I thought you wanted my advice,” said Olivia.
“Oh, you silly!” answered Lydia, gathering her furs around her.
They exchanged the conventional parting kiss. Olivia accompanied her to the landing. When the summoned lift appeared and its doors clashed open, Lydia said:
“You wouldn’t like to take over that hat shop at a valuation, would you?”
“Good heavens, no!” cried the astounded Olivia.
Lydia laughed and waved a grey-gloved hand and disappeared downwards, like the Lady of the Venusberg in an antiquated opera.