A ruddy woman in aleather coat was turning over the
pages of a Michelin guide. He could imagine a lioness beingbored and looking about
her for some new sort of victim.
But the thing that astonished him was the dirtiness
of the place.
That wasone of the human tags brought back from
France.
She reflected for a moment, her head bent over her
work.
Sorrell went back suddenly into the shop, and along
its dark lengthto the woman in the cage. Veritys shop, only to realize how rapidhad
been the drop in his expectations. The exterior of the building pleased him. The
work was new to him;he was on the go from morning to night; the luggage pulled him
topieces.
At school he was very careful of his
clothes.
The work was new to him;he was on the go from
morning to night; the luggage pulled him topieces. His pale face confronted her with
an air of defiance. I have seen something like her before, he thought.
In nine cases out of tenthey remained mute and
paid. She was shrewd, like a strong and cunning animal.
Trade was good; Florence Palfreynever gave you the
impression that she had to deny herselfanything.
Miss Hargreaves was fingering the leaves of a
ledger, and waitingupon his silence. There were other things that Sorrell began to
understand.
Two or three visitors were seated in thelounge,
smoking and reading the daily papers.
The Cubby Hole filled Sorrell with nausea. Palfrey,
stertorous and staring, was nothing but a fat figureof consent.
He turned abruptly, his back to the blonde woman
and made for thedoorway. He had a feeling that she was amused at finding a
man-creature inthe corner of her cage. Christopher meditated some profound thought.
She had suggested immense strength, abrutal and laughing vitality.
Ill give you an hour to fix up that kid of yours.
Yes, said Christopher very solemnly, the sort of thing you lovedoing. Heturned to
the cage, only to find that Miss Hargreaves was all eyesfor the newcomer. You
willhave to scrub that out every morning, and give a hand sometimeswith the
drinks.
She remained there, watching him,enigmatic,
motionless, like a great tawny cat.
For some reason hehad piqued her, and he wondered
why.
It reactedon the boy, and deepened his sensitive
seriousness.
The coffee-room, the commercial-room, the bedrooms
were of noimportance; what mattered was the bar.