At two o'clock Dorothy felt that she must either scream or faint. Her right hand seemed as if it would drop off. At last she suggested that even Admiralty typists required lunch. In a flash John Dene seemed to change into a human being, solicitous and self-reproachful. "Too bad," he said, as he pulled out his watch. "Why, it's a quarter after two. You must be all used up. I'm sorry." "And aren't you hungry as well, Mr. Dene?" she asked, as she closed her note-book and rose. "Hungry!" he repeated as if she had asked him a surprising question. "I've no use for food when I'm hustling. Where do you go for lunch?" "I go to a tea-shop," said Dorothy after a moment's hesitation. "And what do you eat?" demanded John Dene, with the air of a cross-examining counsel. "Oh, all sorts of things," she laughed; "buns and eggs and--and----" "That's no good," was the uncompromising rejoinder. "They're really quite nourishing," she said with a smile. At the Admiralty it was not customary for the chiefs to enquire what the typists ate. "You'd better come with me and have a good meal," he said bluntly, reaching for his hat. Dorothy flushed. The implication was too obvious to be overlooked. Drawing herself up slightly, and with her head a little thrown back, she declined. "I'm afraid I have an engagement," she said coldly. John Dene looked up, puzzled to account for her sudden hauteur. He watched her leave the room, and then, throwing down his hat, reseated himself at his table and once more became absorbed in his work. Dorothy went to the Admiralty staff-restaurant and spent a week's lunch allowance upon her meal. It seemed to help her to regain her self-respect. When she returned to John Dene's room some forty minutes later, determined to get some of her notes typed before he returned, she found him still sitting at his table. As she entered he took out his watch, looked at it and then up at her. Dorothy crimsoned as if discovered in some illicit act. She was angry with herself for her weakness and with John Dene--why, she could not have said. "You've been hustling some," he remarked, as he returned the watch to his pocket. "We've both been quick," said Dorothy, curious to know if John Dene had been to lunch. "Oh, I stayed right here," he said, still gazing up at her. Dorothy felt rebuked. He had evidently felt snubbed, she told herself, and it was her fault that he had remained at work. "See here," said John Dene, "I can't breathe in this place. It's all gold braid and brass buttons. I'm going to rent my own offices, and have lunch sent in and we'll get some work done. You can get a rest or a walk about three. I don't like breaking off in the midst of things," he added, a little lamely, Dorothy thought. "Very well, Mr. Dene," she said, as she resumed her seat. "Do you mind? Say right out if you'd hate it." There was a suspicion of anxiety in his tone. "I'm here to do whatever you wish," she said with dignity.