That day, Friday, October the 11th, after many days, Miss Carridge found her bread, it came bobbing back to her in the form of free samples of various sorts, shaving soap, scent, toilet soap, foot salts, bath cubes, dentifrice, deodorants and even depilatories. It is so easy to lose personal freshness. Miss Carridge had one incalculable advantage over most of her kind – insmell into her infirmity. She would not stink without a struggle, provided the struggle were not too expensive. Highly elated, thoroughly scoured and anointed in every nook and corner, rashly glowing with the sense of being what she called ‘pristine’, Miss Carridge appeared to Celia with the cup of tea. Celia was standing at the window, looking out, in an attitude quite foreign to her. ‘Come in,’ said Celia. ‘Drink it before it curdles,’ said Miss Carridge. Celia whirled round, exclaiming: ‘Oh, Miss Carridge, is that you, I am so worried about the old boy, there has not been a move or a stir out of him all day.’ Her agitation carried her away, she came and took Miss Carridge by the arm.
