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Mrs. Gailey, who had been looking at her over the edge of her Picture Post, misinterpreted the frown.

"The car's a long time coming, isn't it?"

"I hadn't expected it as soon as this."

"How far is Doleham Manor from the station?"

"About six miles."

Iris fixed her eyes on the photograph of a duchess, but the secretary prattled on. "It was Miss Sylvia Dunning who recommended me for this post. You know her, of course."

"No, I've never met her."

"But I understand that she's a great friend of your daughter's."

"My daughter's friends are very seldom mine."

"That must sometimes make things awkward."

"It does."

Was it really impossible to silence this woman? Mercifully, she was not likely to be staying at Doleham Manor itself. Lesley's secretary until now had lived with her other parasites at the farm. But then her present secretary was a man. . . . Who was this Mrs. Gailey? How had the Dunning woman got hold of her? Her recommendation meant nothing. Though Iris had never met her, she knew all about her. She was one of Lesley's gang, her hanger-on, and Mrs. Gailey was probably a hanger-on of the hanger-on. It was all very distressing and degrading.