were, and, after all, why shouldn't she? But somehow's he didn't. It would have looked so greedy, with Miss Caine not touching hers.
She had a sudden vision of mamma and Velma and herself making sandwiches in the kitchen back home, trying new kinds out of the women's magazines, sometimes grandly buying a little yellow pot of foie gras, when mamma was going to have the Just Sew Club, or the bunch was coming to play bridge. When they were passed everyone would say, "Mmm! how yummy!" or, "Oh, now, listen, Mrs. Goff! I've had nine!" and mamma would answer: "Go on, take some! There's nothing to them!" She felt suddenly weak with homesickness.
I guess I ought to begin interviewing. Oh, dear! How do I begin? Oh, please let me know how to do it all right! Please!
"But with a gush of gratitude she realized that the interview had begun.
"I have a ridiculous terror of being interviewed," Christabel Caine was saying, her voice low, yet so clear that each word stood by it-
