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to Ellsworth Galloway and his disgusting prejudices. Unless one is born south of London and comes from a privileged family, one is considered inferior in his eyes. And as for foreigners, according to that man they are the scum of the earth and should be sent back from whence they came.”
    Shaking her head in disgust, she headed for the door. The sprung parquet floor beneath her feet made her feel like dancing. She had danced so much with James. She really missed it.
    A fleeting vision of dancing in Baxter’s arms to the lush chords of the orchestra filled her with a strange sense of longing. It was pointless to dream of such things. Baxter would never unbend as long as she was his employer. And she could hardly deprive him of his job without good reason. Even if she were to do so, she would surely lose him.
    Sadly she acknowledged that it was better to accept the stilted relationship he was willing to offer than none at all. But the ache would always be with her. It was almost as badas the ache she had felt for James. Maybe this, too, would pass. In time.
    Still smarting from the dressing-down that Mrs. Chubb had given her, Gertie was not in a good mood that evening. Although there were no more than a dozen guests in the hotel, having to do everything single-handedly kept her on the trot throughout the entire dinner hour.
    Ellsworth Galloway had been particularly demanding, having had her running back and forward to the kitchen because he’d changed his mind about which kind of wine to drink with his meal.
    And that batty old Lady Belleville had insisted on Gertie bringing lemonade for her canaries to drink. Said it kept their feathers a nice shade of yellow.
    Seated on the coal bin at the side of the huge fireplace in the kitchen, Gertie stared gloomily into the leaping flames. She missed Ethel. Not only because of the extra work and worry, but because she missed having someone to talk to and share a giggle or two.
    She and Ethel used to get up to all kinds of tricks. And now she was gone, swallowed up in the muck and filth of the Smoke, while she was still stuck in the bleeding back of beyond, with not much hope of getting out. It didn’t bear thinking about.
    Gertie sighed and stretched her stockinged feet out to the warmth. Still, she had a lot to be thankful for. After Ian left, madam was kind enough to give her the job as well as her old room. At least she would have plenty of help taking care of the baby when it came.
    And she had her health and strength. That counted for a lot. Not like that poor bleeder found up in the woods. Gertie leaned forward and grasped the poker. Giving the coals agood poke, she watched the shower of red-hot sparks shoot up the chimney.
    Fancy coming across a bloody murderer with an axe in his hand. Must have been a dreadful thing. In spite of the warmth, Gertie shivered. She couldn’t get the sight of that flipping axe out of her mind. It was enough to turn her off ever touching an axe again.
    Not that she’d have to, now that Doris was here. Now someone else could chop sticks, though Gawd knows how that skinny liz was going to lift the bleeding axe. The twit had trouble lifting a bucket of potatoes an inch off the floor. Somehow the thought of Doris Hoggins swinging that heavy axe over her head just didn’t seem possible.
    Gertie sighed. She’d had to do it at that age, and now that her belly was so big, she found it hard to bring the axe down in the right place. Thinking about it prompted her to lift the lid of the kindling box. Just as well she did, because it was almost empty. It looked as if Doris would have her first go at the sticks tonight.
    As if on cue, the kitchen door swung open, and Doris trudged in, looking as if she’d tramped all the way across Putney Downs and back. Gertie almost felt sorry for her. Then she hardened her heart. The kid had to learn, and eventually she’d get used to the hard work. Everyone did.
    “The kindling box needs filling up,” she said as