II
“I’m worried,” said Claudia Reece-Holland.
She refilled her cup from the coffee percolator. Frances Cary gave an enormous yawn. Bothgirls were breakfasting in the small kitchen of the flat. Claudia was dressed and ready to start forher day’s work. Frances was still in dressing¹ gown and pyjamas². Her black hair fell over one eye.
“I’m worried about Norma,” continued Claudia.
Frances yawned.
“I shouldn’t worry if I were you. She’ll ring up or turn up sooner or later, I suppose.”
“Will she? You know, Fran, I can’t help wondering—”
“I don’t see why,” said Frances, pouring herself out more coffee. She sipped³ it doubtfully. “Imean—Norma’s not really our business, is she? I mean, we’re not looking after her or spoon-feeding her or anything. She just shares the flat. Why all this motherly solicitude⁴? I certainlywouldn’t worry.”
“I daresay you wouldn’t. You never worry over anything. But it’s not the same for you as it isfor me.”
“Why isn’t it the same? You mean because you’re the tenant⁵ of the flat or something?”
“Well, I’m in rather a special position, as you might say.”
Frances gave another enormous yawn.
“I was up too late last night,” she said. “At Basil’s party. I feel dreadful. Oh well, I supposeblack coffee will be helpful. Have some more before I’ve drunk it all? Basil would make us trysome new pills—Emerald Dreams. I don’t think it’s really worth trying all these silly things.”
“You’ll be late at your gallery,” said Claudia.
“Oh well, I don’t suppose it matters much. Nobody notices or cares.
“I saw David last night,” she added. “He was all dressed up and really looked ratherwonderful.”
“Now don’t say you’re falling for him, too, Fran. He really is too awful.”
“Oh, I know you think so. You’re such a conventional type, Claudia.”
“Not at all. But I cannot say I care for all your arty set. Trying out all these drugs and passingout or getting fighting mad.”

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