Eight MRS. OLIVER AT WORK
Mrs. Oliver entered the premises¹ of Williams & Barnet, a well-appointed chemist’s shop alsodealing with various cosmetics³. She paused by a kind of dumbwaiter containing various types ofcorn remedies, hesitated by a mountain of rubber sponges, wandered vaguely⁴ towards theprescription desk and then came down past the well-displayed aids to beauty as imagined byElizabeth Arden, Helena Rubinstein, Max Factor and other benefit providers for women’s lives.
She stopped finally near a rather plump girl and enquired⁵ for certain lipsticks⁷, then uttered ashort cry of surprise.
“Why, Marlene—it is Marlene, isn’t it?”
“Well, I never. It’s Mrs. Oliver. I am pleased to see you. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? All the girlswill be very excited when I tell them that you’ve been in to buy things here.”
“No need to tell them,” said Mrs. Oliver.
“Oh, now I’m sure they’ll be bringing out their autograph books!”
“I’d rather they didn’t,” said Mrs. Oliver. “And how are you, Marlene?”
“Oh, getting along, getting along,” said Marlene.
“I didn’t know whether you’d be working here still.”
“Well, it’s as good as any other place, I think, and they treat you very well here, you know. Ihad a rise in salary last year and I’m more or less in charge of this cosmetic² counter now.”
“And your mother? Is she well?”
“Oh yes. Mum will be pleased to hear I’ve met you.”
“Is she still living in her same house down the—the road past the hospital?”
“Oh yes, we’re still there. Dad’s not been so well. He’s been in hospital for a while, but Mumkeeps along very well indeed. Oh, she will be pleased to hear I’ve seen you. Are you staying hereby any chance?”
“Not really,” said Mrs. Oliver. “I’m just passing through, as a matter of fact. I’ve been to see anold friend and I wonder now—” she looked at her wristwatch. “Would your mother be at homenow, Marlene? I could just call in and see her. Have a few words before I have to get on.”

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