But a Short Time to Live

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The fat woman smiled self-consciously at Harry as he gave her the card. It was a pity, he thought, that she had let herself go. Her uncared for hair straggled from under a hat that didn’t suit her, her eyes were heavy and tired, and there was a shine on her face that made you think she had just this moment finished cooking a stodgy, uninteresting meal. But she seemed pleased that Harry had photographed her, and she read the card carefully before putting it in her bag.

“And to think I didn’t see you,” she said as she closed the bag. “I bet I’ll look a proper fright.”

“No, you won’t,” Harry returned. “People always look their best when they don’t know they’re being photographed. It will be ready by tomorrow afternoon. There’s no obligation to buy, only I hope you’ll go along and see it.”

“Oh, I’ll go,” the woman said. “Link Street’s somewhere near the Palace Theatre, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. First turning on the left as you go up Old Compton Street.”

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