How amazingly she had altered, in all these weeks, from the one ideaed, feverish little emotionalist she'd been in the autumn! Yes. Change of scene and of daily work had laid potent hands upon the plastic, fundamentally sound nature of this young girl. Routine had hypnotized her with its rhythmic monotony. She felt the peculiar attraction of being a tiny cog in all this huge machine of War work. New thoughts, new feelings, new interests packed her life; new friends, too, were a revelation to her. Now came Mrs. Newton's more frivolous voice. "_Arlette_, _Bubbly_, and _Cheep_, that's my record so far _this_ week; and tonight I'm going to _Pamela_ for the second time; all thanks to one very young youth getting four days' leave from the Front!" Olwen laughed. The solemn little typist, however, rose to take the letters with a look that practically said, "Some people may be heads of rooms, but they don't seem to realize there's a war on!" and as she took the sheaf of papers to be signed in cell 0368 she all but slammed the door behind her. "Seventeen; _not_ the best phase of English maidenhood, neither washed nor kissed," went on the voice of the unseen Mrs. Newton. "Ah! It's nearly lunch time." "I shan't be able to lunch with you today, Mrs. Newton," Olwen said rather quickly. "My Aunt that I stay with is shopping in town today, so----" "Say no more," returned Mrs. Newton's voice. "I've got Aunts myself. I mean I had before I was married. By the way, I told Fascinating Fergus that I can hear him telephoning his dinner engagements in the next room. He said, with that aggressive face of his, that there was nothing prrivatt in those. I said, "Then why drop your voice when you're doing it?" And why does he, I ask you, insist on being a Tower of Silence in here, when he _longs_ to be considered a perfect Devil outside? Keeping his girl friends _well_ round the corner, nobody ever having seen _one_!... Swank!" "Oh, he's not as bad as all that," murmured Olwen. "He's all right at heart perhaps," came from the other side, "but I _should_ like to take a scraper to him!" And herewith there merged from behind the desk the source of all the voices that had been holding forth, in the person of Mrs. Newton. Her Nile-green silken sports coat alone had cost more than her month's salary could have paid; her hair was arranged as carefully as though there was no thought but of her own extremely pretty looks beneath the broad velvet band that snooded her, but for all that, she was efficient. Clever, too, at darting the arrows of a bright mind at chiefs and colleagues alike. She "took in" most things, not in any disguised fashion, but by turning full upon whatever it was she wished to observe a pair of large, pale grey and pretty eyes, amused and passionless as those of a sea-maid. Their stare was even emphasized at times by the gesture of a slender forefinger and by the clearly-audible "Ah" of that treble voice.