At the end she had ample time to make a start on the other work, but she could not or would not bring herself to the new task. She was content to write a note for Gertie Jackson, shifting all the responsibility on to Gertie. Gertie would have to fly round and make the others fly round. And if the work was late--what then? Lilian did not care. Her conscience seemed to have exhausted itself. She sat in a blissful trance. She recalled with satisfaction that she had said nothing to Felix about Lord Mackworth having called in person. She rose and wandered about the rooms, savouring the silent solitude. The telephone was in the principals’ room. How awkward that might have been if Felix had stayed! But he had not stayed. VI The Telephone "Hello, hello! Who is it?" "Is that Regent 1067?" "Yes." "Is that Lord Mackworth?" "Speaking. Who is it?" "Grig’s Typewriting Office. I’m so sorry to wake you up, but you asked us to. It’s just past six o’clock." "Thanks very much. Who is it speaking?" "Grig’s Typewriting Office." "Yes. But _your_ name? Miss--Miss----?" "Oh! I see. Share. Share. Lilian Share.... Not Spare, S-_h_-a-r-e." "I’ve got it. Share. I recognized your voice, Miss Share. Well, it’s most extraordinarily good-natured of you. Most. I can’t thank you enough. Excuse me asking your name. I only wanted it so that I could thank you personally. Article finished?" "It’s all finished and ready to be delivered. It’ll be dropped into your letter-box in about a quarter of an hour from now. You can rely on that." "Then do you keep messengers hanging about all night for these jobs?" "I’m going to deliver it myself; then I shall know it is delivered." "D’you know, I half suspected all along you meant to do that. You oughtn’t really to put yourself to so much trouble. I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t, really!" "It’s no trouble at all. It’s on my way home." "You’re just going home, then? You must be very tired." "Oh, no! I sleep in the daytime." "Well, I hope you’ll have a good _day’s_ rest." A laugh. "And _I_ hope now I’ve wakened you you won’t turn over and go to sleep again." Another laugh, from the same end. "No fear! I’m up now." "I beg your pardon?" "I’m up. Out of bed." A laugh from the Clifford Street end. "Good-bye, then." "Good-bye. And thanks again. By the way, you’re putting the bill with it?" "Oh, yes." "And the carbon?" "Yes. Good-bye." "Good-bye, Miss Share."