“Oh, there you are, Ev,” Ruby said when she found me in the hallway. She had two green cocktails in her hand. Her voice was lukewarm, a bit hard to read. “Having a good night?” I asked. She looked over her shoulder, put the stems of both glasses in one hand, and then pulled me by the elbow, spilling as she did. “Ow, Ruby,” I said, noticeably perturbed. She nodded covertly to the laundry room to the right of us. “What on earth...” I said. “Would you just open the goddamn door, Evelyn?” I turned the handle, and Ruby stepped in and dragged me with her. She shut the door behind us. “Here,” she said, handing me one of the cocktails in the dark. “I was getting it for Joy, but you have it. It matches your dress, anyway.” As my eyes adjusted, I took the drink from her. “You’re lucky it matches my dress. You nearly poured half the drink on it.” With one of her hands now free, Ruby tugged on the pull chain of the light above us. The tiny room lit up and stung my eyes. “You have absolutely no decorum tonight, Ruby.” “You think I’m worried about what you think of me, Evelyn Hugo? Now, listen, what’re we going to do?” “What are we going to do about what?” “About what? About Celia St. James, that’s what.” “What about her?” Ruby hung her head in frustration. “Evelyn, I swear.” “She gave a great performance. What can we do?” I said. “This is exactly what I told Harry would happen. And he said it wouldn't.” “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” “Youre losing out, too. Or do you not see that?”