"Yes; he has got a nice voice, hasn't he? I noticed it myself. Of course, that awful Miss Collins made eyes at him like anything. She was taking letters when he came in." "Rotten little minx! I wonder if he's engaged to Miss Vivian?" "I couldn't say," primly returned Miss Delmege, with a sudden access of discretion, implying a reticence which in point of fact she was not in a position to exercise. She did not go upstairs again until Captain Trevellyan and his motor-car had safely negotiated the corner of Pollard Street, unaccompanied by Miss Vivian. This Miss Delmege ascertained from a ground-floor window, and then returned to her corner table, wearing an expression of compassionate admiration that Char was perfectly able to interpret. "I'm afraid that was an interruption to our morning's work," she said kindly. "What time is it?" "Nearly one o'clock, Miss Vivian." "Oh, good heavens! Just bring me the Belgian files, will you? and then you'd better go to lunch." "I can quite well go later," said Miss Delmege eagerly. "I--I thought perhaps you'd be lunching out today." "No," drawled Char decisively; "in spite of the inducement of the new car, I shan't leave the office till I have to go to the Convalescent Homes. I'll send for some lunch when I want it." Miss Delmege went to her own lunch with a vexed soul. "I do wish one could get Miss Vivian to eat something," she murmured distractedly to her neighbour. "I know exactly what it'll be, you know. She'll sit there writing, writing, writing, and forget all about food, and then it'll be two o'clock, and she has to see the M.O. of Health and somebody else coming at three--and she'll have had no lunch at all." "Doesn't she ever go out to lunch?" "Only on slack days, and you know how often we get _them_, especially now that the work is simply increasing by leaps and bounds every day." "Couldn't you take her some sandwiches?" asked Mrs. Bullivant from the head of the table. "I could cut some in a minute." "Oh, no, thank you. She wouldn't like it. She hates a fuss," Miss Delmege declared decidedly. The refusal, with its attendant tag of explanatory ingratitude, was received in matter-of-fact silence by every one. Miss Vivian's hatred of a fuss, as interpreted by her secretary, merely redounded to her credit in the eyes of the Hostel. They ate indifferent pressed beef and tepid milk-pudding, and those who could afford it--for the most part accompanied by those who could not afford it--supplemented the meal with coffee and cakes devoured in haste at the High Street confectioner's, and then hurried back to the office. It was nearly three o'clock before Miss Delmege ventured to address her chief. "I'm afraid you haven't had lunch. Do let me send for something." Miss Vivian looked up, flushed and tired. "Dear me, yes. It's much later than I thought. Send out one of the Scouts for a couple of buns and a piece of chocolate."