`Sit down, if you're staying. I've just got to finish this.'

It came from a high-backed revolving chair, which had been turned away from the desk to face the window. Kate raised one eyebrow at the man's rudeness and chose an upright chair set against the wall. Lifting it forward, she set it in front of the desk and sat down composedly, smoothing her skirt over her knees and folding her hands calmly in her lap. The squashy leather chairs looked inviting, but she would be at a distinct disadvantage if she sank into one of them, f and she had a strong feeling that she was going to need all the advantages she could get in dealing with this man.

Minutes passed. The only indication of another presence in the room was the sound of turning pages from behind the chair. Kate waited, but her lips tightened disapprovingly. She was tempted to get up and leave, but a stern, sensible voice inside her reminded her about the fat salary, and the rent due, and the imprudence of chucking in her chances of a good job by storming out, and no doubt causing an embarrassing scene.

Eventually he spoke. `I gather from my personnel manager that you claim to speak French?'

'I do speak French,' Kate corrected him with frosty emphasis.

`I've seen a succession of girls who say they speak French, but in fact can barely muster an O level between them. They're all just a little rusty.' He mimicked the feminine tones contemptuously. `Frankly, I don't want to waste any more time on you unless you can speak French fluently.'

'I_. wasn't aware that you'd wasted any time on me. Kate said with a slight edge to her voice. 'However, I can assure that I can speak French. I'm bilingual.'

'Prove it.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I said, prove it. Say something in French!'