She had a very good complexion for a woman in her forties, he reflected. He was beginning to like her. Almost at once he reminded himself that she might have come to beg or to borrow, even to con him. Back in his memory he remembered a very plain woman named Belle, as convincing a confidence trickster as any he had ever met.
“No,” she said. “I want your help.”
He should have been wary, but he was not.
“In what way?”
“It’s a little difficult to explain simply,” she said. “Will you bear with me if I seem to ramble?” she sipped again. “I am the resident superintendent of a rather unusual hostel, for young women, and I am troubled by a situation which has developed quite recently. Something is frightening them, and two have left without any explanation. I could go to the police but if I did so there might be a scandal, and I’m sure that many of them would greatly resent it. And my control is positive but yet delicately balanced. I could undo in one day what I’ve done—or tried to do— over several years. These are not the easiest days for young people—or for those who try to help and guide them.” Naomi Smith paused, “Have I made any sense to you?”
“In some ways, a great deal,” said Rollison. He considered, and then said tentatively: “You run a hostel for fallen angels, I gather?”
Her smile disappeared, but not in disapproval.
“A very apt description.”
“Very special angels, I gather,” he said drily.
“They are indeed! And mine is a very special hostel’ “Do you own it?” Rollison asked.
No. I manage it fur a group of people who are greatly concerned for these particular young women.”
“I see,” said Rollison. “Is it a semi-luxury hostel?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Requiring certain qualifications,” remarked Rollison. He finished his drink, and gave a much warmer smile. “Would it be better for you to tell me more about the hostel, rather than have me ask a lot of questions?”
She considered, and then answered:
“If you will answer me one question satisfactorily, I will gladly answer all of yours.”
“That’s fair enough,” said Rollison, feeling more and more curious every moment. “I’ll try to be satisfactory!”
“Thank you. The question is, are you strongly prejudiced against young women whom you call ‘fallen angels’? Do you condemn them out of hand as being beyond the pale?”
Rollison began to like this woman very much. He settled further back in his chair, placed the tips of his fingers together and appeared to look over the rim of nonexistent glasses. He contrived, in those moments, to appear a little like the caricature of a pedantic parson.
“No,” he said. “I do not. On the other hand I don’t see the wisdom or expediency of encouraging them unduly.” After a fractional pause, he went on: “Is that satisfactory?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling again. “Yes. Ask me whatever you wish.”
“Very well,” said Rollison. “Will you stay for lunch?” She was obviously taken aback, almost confused.
“How very nice of you! I—” there was another fractional pause. “Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to need a little time,” said Rollison. “Excuse me.” He pressed a bell-push in the wall by the fireplace where logs replaced the winter’s fires. “It won’t be anything fancy . . . Oh, Jolly, Mrs. Smith will be staying to lunch.”
“Very good, sir,” Jolly said, and withdrew.
Naomi Smith looked at the doorway in which he had appeared for a moment, but repressed the impulse to comment on Jolly. She seemed to settle back in her chair, more at ease. Rollison, having had time to study her, found it difficult to explain his first reaction; she was plain, certainly, but somehow, when studied feature, by feature, there seemed no reason for the general effect.
She looked back at him.
“Exactly what would you like to know, Mr. Rollison?”
“I think I’d like to learn more about these angels. How many are there?”
“When we are full—twenty-five.”
“And they can all afford the hostel?”
“I don’t quite understand you.”
“Isn’t the kind of hostel you have described expensive?”
“The girls don’t pay,” she said.
Rollison said, groping :
“You mean this is a state-sponsored institution?”
“No,” answered Naomi Smith, her expression changing as if something had touched her with disappointment. “You
“Not knowingly,” replied Rollison. “What makes you think so?”
