greeting she had no time to utter.

So Lily got away from the counter, plunged into a chartless sea of
customers, and eventually emerged in the quarter which had been
indicated.

'All sold out, miss!'

Such was the blunt answer to her demand for a silvered fox-stole.

'Don't talk to me like that!' said Mrs. Albert Shawn. 'It isn't above
half-past nine on the first morning of the sale, and you advertised two
thousand of them.'

'Sorry, miss. All sold out,' repeated the second shopwalker.

'I shall report this to Mr. Hugo. Do you know who I am? I'm--'

And the second shopwalker also turned his back.

Could these things be happening at Hugo's, at Hugo's, so famous for the
courtesy, the long patience, the indestructible politeness of its
well-paid employés? And could Hugo have descended to the trickeries of
the eleven-pence-halfpenny draper, who proclaimed non-existent bargains
to lure the unwary into his shop? Lily might have wondered if she was
not dreaming, but she was far too practical ever to be in the least
doubt as to whether she was asleep or awake. And now she perceived that
scores of angry women about her were equally disappointed by the
disgraceful absence of those stoles. The department, misty, stuffy, and
noisy, had the air of being the scene of an insurrection. One lady was