He put a hand on her shoulder, laughing, turned her about, and came in with her, shutting the door behind them.

There was no lobby, and only the one room-a big room, partitioned all down one side to make bathroom, dressing-room, kitchenette. There was a divan which obviously became a bed at night. There were two really comfortable chairs. There was a plain strong table littered with manuscript, but otherwise the room was surprisingly tidy, and the colours were good-deep, rich, and restful. There were a couple of Persian runners on the floor. He liked Julia’s room, and was actually on the verge of telling her so, when he changed his mind.

“You’ve got ink on your nose, darling.”

She flamed at once. Quite the old Julia.

“If you will come when I’m working, you must take me as you find me! You’ve seen me with ink on my nose before!”

“I have. But, as I have invariably pointed out, you look better without it.”

“I don’t care how I look!”

“Darling, that’s only too painfully obvious. Comb the hair and wash the face, and then you can give me the low-down on the family.”

“I haven’t really got time,” said Julia. But the flame died down. Quite suddenly the one thing she wanted on earth was to get away from Antony ’s teasing eyes.

She disappeared into one of the cubicles. When she came back the nose was inkless and the hair in not unattractive curls.

“As a matter of fact I didn’t think you’d be here so soon. Lunch with Lois generally takes longer than that.”

“How do you know I was having lunch with Lois?”

“Didn’t you tell me? No, she did-she would of course!”

“Darling, that sounds like womanly spite.”

“It is.”

A laughing look just lit her eyes, and then burned out. What was the use of talking to Antony about Lois? He’d been crazy about her two years ago, and even if he wasn’t now, she would probably be one of those lingering memories. Men were more sentimental than women. And always, always, always they hated to hear a woman run another woman down.