18
The showrooms of Ambrosine, Ltd., were very pure in appearance. The walls were a shade just off white - the thick pile carpet was son neutral as to be almost colourless - so was the upholstery. Chromium gleamed here and there, and on one wall was a gigantic geometric design in vivid blue and lemon yellow. The room had been designed by Mr. Sydney Sandford - the newest and youngest decorator of the moment.
Egg Lytton Gore¹ sat in an armchair of modern design - faintly reminiscent of a dentist’s chair, and watched exquisite² snake-like young women with beautiful bored faces pass sinuously³ before her. Egg was principally concerned with endeavouring to appear as though fifty or sixty pounds was a mere⁴ bagatelle⁵ to pay for a dress. Mrs. Dacres, looking as usual marvellously unreal, was (as Egg put it to herself) doing her stuff.
“Now, do you like this? Those shoulder knots - rather amusing, don’t you think? And the waistline’s rather penetrating⁶. I shouldn’t have the red lead colour, though - I should have it in the new colour
-Espanol - most attractive - like mustard, with a dash of cayenne in it. How do you like Vin Ordinaire? Rather absurd, isn’t it? Quite penetrating and ridiculous. Clothes simply must not be serious nowadays.”
“It’s very difficult to decide,” said Egg. “You see” - she became confidential⁷ - “I’ve never been able to afford any clothes before. We were always so dreadfully poor. I remembered how simply marvellous you looked that night at Crow's Nest, and I thought, Now that I’ve got money to spend, I shall go to Mrs. Dacres and ask her to advise me. I did admire you so much that night.”
“My dear, how charming of you. I simply adore dressing⁸ a young girl. It’s so important that girls shouldn’t look raw - if you know what I mean.”

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