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Stevens had told her, the Duchess decided. Or David Bruce. Or possibly she had known even before she had arrived in England that the Imperial General Staff Liaison officer to OSS Whithey House Station had before the war occupied the house as the Duchess Stanfield.

"I'm perfectly prepared," Charity said with a smile, "to curtsy... for that matter to prostrate myself... if it means access to a hot bath. What I had in London was a trickle of rusty tepid water. More like a bad leak than a shower."

The Duchess laughed.

"Well, come on, then, we'll get you a hot bath. And you won't have to prostrate yourself, either."

The Duchess was surprised, almost astounded, to see what Charity Hoche's heavy suitcases contained. There was one spare uniform and several spare shirts, but the rest of the space was filled with cosmetics, soap, perfume, underwear, and silk stockings.

Charity saw the surprise on the Duchess's face.

"We have a marvelous old sailor in Washington," she said.

"Chief Ellis. He told me what to bring. He said that I could get anything GI over here without any trouble, but that if I wanted 'lady-type things," I should take them with me."

"You were given good advice," the Duchess said.

"That's the first time I've seen more than three pairs of silk stockings at once in years."

"Help yourself," Charity said.

"Oh, I couldn't," the Duchess said.

"Oh, I wish you would," Charity said.

"Sooner or later, there will be a chance for you to scratch my back. And there's three dozen pair, more than I can possibly use before Mommy sends me some more."

"Would you like me to prostrate myself now, or later? "the Duchess asked.

They smiled at each other, and the Duchess understood that her snap judgment of Charity Hoche had been on the money. A good woman, and a nice one. Charity handed he

r a dozen pair of silk stockings.

"Wear them in good health," Charity said.

Charity went to the tub, put in the stopper, and started to fill it. She then somewhat discomfited the Duchess by taking off all her clothes and 'walking around the bedroom starkers as she loaded her treasure of "lady-type things" into a chest of drawers.

Then she got into the tub. The Duchess went to her room, threw away with great pleasure her remaining two pairs of silk stockings--which had runs in them--and put on a pair that Charity had given her. They made her feel good.

Then she saw her own hoard of "lady-type things." It primarily consisted of twenty-two jars of Elizabeth Arden bubble bath. Her eyes teared. Just before he'd gone off wherever the hell he was. Jimmy Whittaker had helped himself to her last half-tin of bubble bath, and she had been furious.

Not too furious, she recalled, to accept his invitation to join in the bubbles.

In fact, she'd probably really been more sad than angry. She had resigned herself to doing without bubble bath as she had resigned herself to doing without Jimmy Whittaker.

And then Bob Jamison had called her into his office, handed her a

U.S.

Army package from the National Institutes of Health, Washington, D.C.-which was how the OSS identified its packages--stamped urgent air priority shipment and a shipping label reading "Crystals, Soluble, Non-Explosive," and addressed to the "Officer-in-Charge, Agricultural Research Facility, Whithey House, Kent."

"I think this is for you," Jamison had said.

It was a case of twenty-four bottles of Elizabeth Arden bubble-bath crystals.

God, how I miss Jimmy!

And to bell with thinking about the illegal use of scarce air-freight facilities and interfering with the war effort. |