Antony Latter stood against the pillar and watched Lois come in through the swing-door and make her way across the anteroom to the inner lounge of the Luxe. He was in no hurry to go and meet her. It was always a pleasure to see Lois come into a room-she walked so well, and she looked as if she had bought the earth. The earth and Jimmy Latter. His mouth tightened a little. Poor old Jimmy. What did it feel like to be thrown in as a make-weight? Not too good, but heaven doesn’t help you unless you help yourself. Anyhow here was Lois, as fresh as paint in a slim black suit which showed off her figure and flattered her skin, the white camellia of a blameless life at the newest, smartest angle, and the latest bit of nonsense adorning the auburn waves of her hair. As he went to meet her he reflected that he had never seen her with one of those waves disturbed. Other women got hot and untidy, their hair straggled and their noses shone, but not Lois. Ben Jonson’s verse flitted ironically through his mind:

“Still to be neat, still to be drest,

As you were going to a feast.

Still to be powdered, still perfum’d-”

As he shook hands with her he wondered whether he dared quote the lines to Lois, and whether she would know how they ended if he did.

“Lady, it is to be presumed…

All is not sweet, all is not sound.”

In fact, Ben liked ’em untidy.

He laughed, and thought he had better be discreet. He and Lois had done some hard hitting in their time, but this was another time and-she was Jimmy’s wife.

As they moved towards the dining-room, one of the great mirrors reflected them side by side. Lois thought they made an excellent pair. Antony was distinguished-that tall, light figure, and the way he moved. He was better looking than he had been two years ago. He was twenty-nine-a man was at his best at twenty-nine. Eight years between them, but nobody would have guessed it. She was still at her best. No one would take her for more than twenty-seven. No one would dream that she was older than Antony.