h, aye, I see,' she said slowly, thoughtfully considering the rather
full lines of Victoria's figure.

Victoria had not the slightest idea of what she saw. 'I'm looking out
for a berth,' she remarked casually.

'Oh, are you?' said the girl with renewed animation. 'What's your line?'

'Anything,' said Victoria. She looked round the pink and white shop. A
feeling of weariness had suddenly come over her. The woman at the top of
the steps had backed away a little, and was rhythmically swishing a wet
rag on the linoleum. Under her untidy hair her neck gleamed red and
fleshy, touched here and there with beads of perspiration. Victoria took
her in as unconsciously as she would an ox patiently straining at the
yoke. To and fro the woman's body rocked, like a machine wound up to
work until its parts drop out worn and useless.

'Ever done any waiting?' The voice of the girl almost made Victoria
jump. She saw herself being critically inspected.

'No, never,' she faltered. 'That's to say, I would, if I got a billet.'

'Mm,' said the girl, eyeing her over. 'Mm.'

Victoria's heart beat unreasonably. 'Do you know where I can get a job?'
she asked.

'Well,' said the girl very deliberately, 'the fact of the matter is,
that we're short here. We had a letter this morning. One of our girls
left home yesterday. Says she can't come. They don't know where she is.'

'Yes,' said Victoria, too excited to speculate as to the implied
tragedy.

'If you like, you can see the manager,' said the girl. 'He's down
there.' She pointed to the cellar.

'Thank you so much,' said Victoria, 'it's awfully kind of you.' The fair
girl walked to the banisters. 'Mr Stein,' she cried shrilly into the
darkness.

There was a rumble, a sound like the upsetting of a chair, footsteps on
the stairs. A head appeared on a level with the floor.

'Vat is it?' growled a voice.

'New girl; wants to be taken on.'

'Vell, take her on,' growled the voice. 'You are ze 'ead vaitress, gn,
you are responsible.'

Victoria had just time to see the head, perfectly round, short-haired,
white faced, cloven by a turned up black moustache, when it vanished
once more. The Germanic 'gn' at the end of the first sentence puzzled
her.

'Sulky beast,' murmured the girl. 'Anyhow, that's settled. You know the
wages, don't you? Eight bob a week and your lunch and tea.'

'Eight . . .' gasped Victoria. 'But I can't live on that.'

'My, you are a green 'un,' smiled the girl. 'Wi