. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. Lucy was surprised to hear that any party could happen on a week night, but the parents of the house in question were the rich absentee type. She opened and read it at once. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. She were that miserable. He was not a sailor. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together.
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