Jim parked in the street in front of the house. With Harriet and Mildred still cleaning up the reception at the club, he took Bridget’s coat himself... He hung it in the hall closet with his. He led her upstairs.“My room,” he said opening the door. He was glad to see that Mildred had cleaned it since he’d dressed for the wedding. “Our room, now.” He struck a match and lit two gas mantles. The light dispersed the gloom of dusk from the room.Bridget looked around. It was a very nice room, decorated. ”“No.”“It pays well.”“No. You know about me and horses. I don’t have to ride a half ton of highly powerful, incredibly stupid meat to earn money.”“Then we turn to the second option.” She raised her voice. “Portia, where’s that fucking Champagne?” She lowered it again. “The second option may be seen as a tad beneath an actress of your standing.”“Don’t take the piss.”She carried on as if I had said nothing, “But, for reasons I will explain, I think it would be good.” The Champagne arrived, ready. More

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