“Take her to the Continental,” Miss Bell told him. “They’ll never let her in here.”

Her lips hardly moved when she spoke. I thought of Mumma taking down a hem, telling me to turn with her mouth full of pins. Unnerved, I lifted Rosie into my arms and stammered into her fur. “But—I made a reservation. I—I put down a deposit. The Cook’s agent in Cleveland said—”

“Hold your head up,” Miss Bell commanded. “Look people straight in the eye and state your position without hesitation. It’s the only way to get anything done.”

I felt both admonished and encouraged, like a failing student who’s been told how to earn a better mark on the next assignment. It took all my self-possession not to say, “Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.”

She took a small, flat silver case from her handbag and extracted a cigarette with stained yellow fingers, tapping one end on sterling to settle its tobacco. “The dear boy and I stayed at the Continental before the war. We were colleagues at the Arab Bureau,” she said. “The rooms are quite adequate. I’ll ring ahead for you and make the arrangements.”

“Will they allow Rosie in?” I asked.

“If I tell them to.”

She seemed barely to register my thanks as she placed her cigarette between lips permanently puckered by the habit and leaned expectantly toward Colonel Lawrence.

He spread his empty hands and suggested, “Ask Winston.”

She rolled her eyes toward heaven. “The dear boy has no vices, Miss Shanklin. Very tiresome for those of us who do.”

“I have many vices,” Lawrence said. “It’s a vesta I lack.” A match, he meant. That’s what British people called matches back then.

Miss Bell sighed, and turned, and raised her hand to catch the attention of a balding, thickish person who stood gesticulating with a cigar amid a knot of gentlemen in the lobby. “Winston Darling!” she called. “Light me, will you, please?”

With that, she sailed off and docked at Mr. Darling’s side. He produced a lighter, and again she leaned forward—almost coquettishly steadying the flame with a hand upon his wrist. Pulling in the smoke with evident pleasure, she released a long plume into the air and took the round arm he offered. Mr. Darling was evidently undismayed to appear so short and soft in comparison to Miss Bell’s own commanding physique.