She thanked him fondly and presently turned into the Embankment, where she drove across the bows of an oncoming taxi whose driver cursed her very heartily. His fare, a Mr. Donald McAngus, peered anxiously out of the window. He also was a passenger for the Cape Farewell.

About two and a half hours later a taxi would leave the Green Thumb flower shop in Knightsbridge for the East End. In it would be a fair-haired girl and a box of flowers which was covered with cellophane, garnished with a huge bow of yellow ribbon and addressed to Mrs. Dillington-Blick. The taxi would head eastward. It, too, was destined for the Royal Albert Docks.

From the moment she came aboard the Cape Farewell, Mrs. Dillington-Blick had automatically begun to practise what her friends, among themselves, called her technique. She had turned her attention first upon the steward. The Farewell carried only nine passengers and one steward attended them all. He was a pale, extremely plump young man with blond hair that looked crimped, liquid eyes, a mole at the corner of his mouth, and a voice that was strongly cockney, strangely affected, and indescribably familiar. Mrs. Dillington-Blick took no end of trouble with him. She asked him his name (it was Dennis) and discovered that he also served in the bar. She gave him three pounds and hinted that this was merely an initial gesture. In less than no time she had discovered that he was twenty-five, played the mouth-organ, and had taken a dislike to Mr. and Mrs. Cuddy. He showed a tendency to linger, but somehow or another, and in the pleasantest manner, she contrived to get rid of him.

“You are wonderful!” her friend exclaimed.

“My dear!” Mrs. Dillington-Blick returned. “He’ll put my make-up in the refrigerator when we get to the tropics.”

Her cabin was full of flowers. Dennis came back with vases for them and suggested that the orchids also should be kept in the refrigerator. The ladies exchanged glances. Mrs. Dillington-Blick unpinned the cards on her flowers and read out the names with soft little cries of appreciation. The cabin, with its demure appointments and sombre décor, seemed to be full of her — of her scent, her furs, her flowers, and herself.