"She's probably going to be of more use to the nation, let me tell you, than all the rest of you put together," said Dr. Prince. Miss Delmege's agony of mind reached its culmination, and she let drop an armful of heavy ledgers with a clatter which effectually covered any further indelicate precision of utterance of which the doctor might have been guilty. By the time that Grace had extinguished her own laughter in the cupboard, and had assisted Miss Delmege to pick up her books, the Doctor had slammed the door behind him, with a disregard for Miss Vivian's presence which might perhaps be accounted for by the searching cross-examination to which she had just subjected his proposed Medical Board cases. "A doctor's profession, I suppose," Miss Delmege said to Grace in tones of outraged delicacy as they left the office together, "destroys the finer feelings altogether. I'm not prudish, so far as I know, but really, after what passed in the office today--" "I wish you'd tell me what Mrs. Baker-Bridges said to you over the telephone." Miss Delmege coloured and tossed her head. "Some people don't seem to mind _what_ they say. I never did like her, but I certainly didn't think she had a coarse mind." "And has she?" "Well, I wouldn't say it to any one but you, dear, and I know you won't repeat any of it, but she was actually so pleased and proud at the mere idea that she said she couldn't keep it to herself, though she isn't even in the least certain." The virtuous horror expressed in Miss Delmege's whole person at such deplorable outspokenness was so excessive that Grace dared not make any reply for fear of producing an anti-climax. That evening, Grace's last at Questerham Hostel, her room-mate became disconsolate. "I don't know what I shall do without you, Gracie, and this room will be simply awful. You've always been such a dear about my being so untidy and everything, and put up with all of it, and done such heaps of little things. I shall never forget how you washed up the cups and tea-things after our morning tea, dear, never." "But I was only too pleased," protested Grace. "You've done a lot for me, if it comes to that. Look how often you've boiled your kettle for me, and had everything ready on nights when I came back late. I shall miss you very much, but don't forget that if ever you're in Wales you're coming to stay with us." "I say, do you really mean that?" "Of course I do." "You are a brick, Gracie. The thing I like about you," said Miss Marsh instructively, "is that you don't put on any frills." "Well, why should I?" "Oh, I don't know--staying at Plessing, and knowing Miss Vivian's people, and so on. There are others I could name," Miss Marsh said viciously, "who take airs for a good deal less--in fact, for nothing at all, that any one but themselves can see." Miss Jones knew from much previous experience the subject denoted by that particular edge in her room-mate's voice.