Marry a Stranger Read Online Free Page B

that Dr. Guelder was also dining out, and she also sounded a little surprised because Stacey had not waited to say goodbye.
    “It was nice having you,” she said unexpectedly. “I was hoping you were going to stay for a few days.”
    “But Dr. Guelder — ” Stacey began.
    “Oh, the doctor often spends a few nights at his consulting rooms,” Mrs. Elbe informed her cheerfully, “and you were not really putting him out. But if Miss Hunt is going to employ you I expect it will be nice for you to live with her.”
    But Stacey, as she replaced the receiver, was not sure—she was very far from sure.
    The next morning, shortly before eight o’clock, her breakfast was brought in to her on a tray by the elderly woman who came in daily to keep the flat in order for Vera Hunt. It was merely a pot of tea and a few thin pieces of toast, but Miss Hunt, she discovered later, began her working day on even less than that. In her case it was merely a cup of black coffee and a cigarette, or sometimes simply orange juice. But as her main preoccupation was the preservation of her slender figure this was not surprising.
    The little shop in Bond Street was one of those tiny, tucked-away, unimposing-looking establishments, but inside it was a poem in orchid mauve and cool dove grey. There were orchid mauve velvet hangings and a grey carpet into which the feet sank as if they were sinking into sand, and a spiral gilt staircase curled upwards to the unseen workrooms above. Fragile gilt and satin-covered chairs were scattered about like toys on the carpet, and a great bowl of yellow roses stood on a little escritoire at which Miss Hunt sometimes sat and dealt with correspondence.
    Stacey was introduced to a young woman with magnificent red hair who answered to the name of Irmgard, who modelled for the Hunt establishment, and took over entire control when Miss Hunt was absent. She it was who set Stacey small tasks such as sorting a box of flower ornaments for the fussier type of evening gown, checking invoices and restoring some sort or order to a muddled filing system. She was also asked to type a few letters during the course of her first day, interview a customer when her employer and Irmgard were both occupied, and pack up a wonderful confection in satin and biscuit-colored lace which had been promised for unfailing despatch that evening.
    During her lunch break she was permitted to take a short stroll down Oxford Street, and at tea time she was regaled with a cup of straw-colored China tea and a fancy biscuit. Back at the flat that evening she was again invited to produce her own meal—this time out of even less tempting leftovers which were all that she could discover in the refrigerator—while Miss Hunt hurried to change her dress and keep an engagement for the evening.
    Altogether, the amount of conversation she had with her employer during the day was practically none at all, and by the time they had known one another for forty-eight hours she still did not know whether Dr. Guelder had accepted her abrupt departure from his flat as quite the sort of thing he would have expected from her. When she ventured to ring him again at his consulting rooms his secretary said he was at the hospital, and at his flat Mrs. Elbe still said he was out. So thinking it the best thing she wrote him a little note of thanks and explanation, to which he returned no answer—or she never received one.
    The days passed, a week passed, and her duties at the shop were still much the same. She grew rather tired of trying to fill in odd moments sorting lengths of ribbon and lace, and even welcomed being sent out on small, unimportant errands. For one thing, when released into the street, she was able to satisfy her craving for something more to eat than the few fingers of toast at breakfast time, the hurried cup of coffee and a roll at lunch time, and the scrambled egg or egg on toast which was the nearest she came to a solid meal in the evening, and a large