Fancy having to lie in bed and listen to him rehearsing his speeches.”

“Now you’re getting crude.” Ruth grinned and sauntered back leisurely to her desk. “Very well, I’ll send her along if she turns up: only for Heaven’s sake don’t let her be too much of a nuisance. You’ve quite enough to do without setting up as a wet nurse.”

“I will remember that my first duty is to the Firm.”

Making a mock obeisance, Sally walked to the head of the staircase, and descending the short flight, unlocked a door in the narrow passage below. It led into a long, low-ceilinged room about the same size as the shop, the windows of which looked out into a small backyard.

Though at some former period in its existence it had apparently been a kitchen, it was now fitted up partly as a store-room and partly as a workshop. The big table in the centre was littered with a variety of objects, including scissors, paints, pencils, drawing-pins, and at least half a dozen rough, unfinished sketches. In one corner stood an ancient but comfortable-looking divan, while round the walls, still covered by an atrociously hideous Victorian paper, were ranged other pieces of contemporary furniture, interspaced with shelves and cupboards.

Taking down a dark blue overall from a peg behind the door, Sally slipped it on over her neat black frock. Then, with a purposeful air, she turned up her sleeves, and moving briskly across to the opposite end of the room, swung open the door of a big mahogany wardrobe. It was stacked full of what is inelegantly referred to as “junk.”

***

“Oh, good morning, Miss Barlow. Is Sally here?”

The visitor advanced towards the desk, and favouring her with an inhospitable glance, Ruth blotted the letter she had been writing and pushed back her chair. The superficial resemblance between the two sisters always had the effect of arousing her resentment: it was so obviously and annoyingly in favour of the younger. No one, of course, could deny Sally’s attractiveness; but while she was merely pretty, Sheila possessed that starry, heart-arresting beauty that made men turn round and gape after her in the street. In Ruth’s eyes this appeared to be a blunder on the part of Providence for which there was no conceivable excuse.

“Sally is in the basement looking through some stuff,” was her grudging response. “We have just had a new commission, and she is pretty busy this morning.”

“I’ll go down, then: I must talk to her for a minute or two. If anyone else asks for her you might tell them that she’s engaged.”

Without waiting for an answer the speaker crossed over to the back of the shop, and making her way quickly down the staircase, pushed open the door of the store-room. There was a kind of nervous tension about all her actions which suggested that she was labouring under some strong emotional strain.

Sally, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by several rolls of artificial silk, scrambled up with a welcoming smile.

“Hullo, Sheila darling,” she exclaimed. “Sorry the place is in such a mess, but I’ve been overhauling some of this truck to see whether I can palm anything off on one of our gilded clients.” She tucked back a stray curl that had tumbled forward across her eyes. “What’s up now?” she inquired. “Sounded on the phone as if you were in a bit of a spot.”

“Oh, Sally, I’m nearly off my head.” Closing the door behind her, Sheila moved towards the couch and collapsed weakly amongst a pile of cushions. “It’s too ghastly,” she faltered. “Unless you can help me it means the absolute end of everything—everything.”

“Bad as that, eh?” Raising her eyebrows, Sally walked slowly round the table, and seating herself alongside, patted her sister soothingly on the arm. “Come along, then,” she continued in the sort of voice one uses to a small child. “Get it off your chest, and let’s see what we can do about it.”

With a stifled gulp Sheila glanced round apprehensively in the direction of the door. “I—I suppose it’s quite safe to talk here? I don’t want that Barlow girl to come bursting in. She hates me: I can see it in her face.”

“Don’t be a fathead. Ruth isn’t exactly your cup of tea, but she’s a grand sport, and the most generous-hearted soul I’ve ever known. Besides there isn’t the faintest chance of her coming down here. If I’m wanted she’ll just lean over the stairs and howl.”

A longish pause followed, and then, lifting a pair of beautiful, woe-begone eyes, Sheila braced herself up for what appeared to be a supreme effort.

“It’s that beast Granville Sutton,” she whispered.

“Granville Sutton!” Sally frowned. “Why, six months ago you told me that you’d finished with him for good and all.”

“So I had. At least, I thought so at the time.”

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“Of course not. I hate him.