"Quite out of the question. You don't in the least realize the official footing on which I have to keep those women." "I should have thought you needn't be any the less official for showing some friendliness to a girl who's come all the way from Wales to help you." "She's my under-secretary, mother." "What! sub-scrub to the genteel Miss Delmege? She's got ten times her brains, and is a lady into the bargain." It infuriated Char that her mother's cool, tacit refusal to acknowledge the infallibility of the Director of the Midland Supply Depôt could always make her feel like a little girl again. She rallied all her most official mannerisms together. "It's quite impossible for me to differentiate between the various members of the staff, or to make any unofficial advances to any of them." "Very well, my dear. As, thank Heaven, I'm not a member of your staff, I can remain as unofficial as I please, and have nice little Miss Jones out to see me." "Mother," said Char in an agony, "it's simply _impossible_. The girl would never know her place in the office again; and think of all the cackling there'd be at the Questerham Hostel about my asking any one out to Plessing. Johnnie, do tell her it's out of the question." Trevellyan looked at Joanna with a laugh in his blue eyes. He realized, as Char would never realize, that her assumption of officialdom always provoked her mother to the utterance of ironical threats which she had never the slightest intention of fulfilling. She shrugged her shoulders slightly at her daughter's vehemence, and crossed over to where Grace Jones was putting on her coat and hat again. "Good-night. I hope you're not as tired as you look," she said with a sort of abrupt graciousness. "Oh no, thank you. It's been an extra busy night. It was so kind of you to help." "I wish I could come again," said Lady Vivian rather wistfully, "but I don't know that I shall be able to." Lesbia Willoughby, dashing past them at full speed, found time to fling a piercing rebuke over her shoulder. "There's _always_ a will where there's a way, Joanna. Look at me!" Neither of them took advantage of the invitation, and Joanna said irrelevantly: "I should like you to come and see me, if you will, but I know you're at work all day. I must try and find you next time I come into Questerham." "Thank you very much," said Grace in a pleased voice. "I should like that very much indeed. Good-night." "Good-night," repeated Joanna, and went back to where her daughter, with a rather indignant demeanour, was waiting for her. "Well?" asked Char, rather sullenly. Lady Vivian, who almost invariably became flippant when her daughter was most in earnest, said provokingly: "Well, my dear, I've made arrangements for all sorts of unofficial rendezvous. You may see Miss Delmege at Plessing yet." "Miss Delmege is a very good worker," said Char icily. "She's very much in earnest, always ready to stay overtime and finish up anything important."