"Only put some ribbon in my things. The washing was back last night, instead of tomorrow morning, which will be such a saving of time during the week. I wish it always came on Saturday," said Grace, serenely drawing out a small folded pile of linen from her capacious and orderly basket. Every one looked rather awestruck. "Do you put in ribbon every week?" "Isn't it marvellous of her?" Miss Marsh inquired proudly, gazing at her room-mate. "She has such nice things, too." Grace uncarded a length of ribbon, and began to thread it through the lace of the garment known to the Hostel as a camisole. "I can't say I take the trouble myself. _My_ things go to the wash as they are, ribbon and all. The colour has to take its chances," said Miss Plumtree. "Are we going to have any music tonight?" inquired Miss Delmege, with a sudden effect of primness. The suggestion was received without enthusiasm. "Then," Miss Delmege said, with a glance at Grace, who had completed the adornment of her camisole, and was proceeding to unfold yet further garments, "I think I shall go to bed." "Do, dear," Mrs. Bullivant told her kindly. "I hope any one will go early who's tired." Miss Delmege smiled cryptically. "Well," she said gently, "underwear in the sitting-room, you know!" "Oh dear!" cried Grace in tones of dismay. "Is that really why she's gone upstairs?" "No loss, either," Miss Marsh declared stoutly. "But it's only my petticoat bodice." "I suppose she didn't know what might be coming next." Grace, guiltily conscious of that which might quite well have been coming next but for this timely reminder, hastily completed her work and put it away again. She leant back in the wicker chair, unconsciously adjusting her weight with due regard to its habit of creaking, and gazed into the red embers of the dying fire. Her mind was quite abstracted, and she was unaware of the spasmodic conversation carried on all round her. Her thoughts were at Plessing. How could Miss Vivian be coming to stay at the Hostel when her father was so ill, and Lady Vivian alone at Plessing? Grace remembered the expression on Joanna's face when her daughter had said that she could no longer stay away from the office at Questerham. She supposed that a consent had been extorted from her by Char, unless, indeed, Miss Vivian had not deemed even that formality to be necessary. Grace wondered, with unusual despondency, when or if she should see Lady Vivian again. She felt quite certain now that never again would any pretext induce Char to let her return to Plessing, and was not without a suspicion that she might be made to feel, in her secretarial work, that the Plessing days had not been a success in the eyes of Miss Vivian. "Never mind; it was quite worth it," thought Grace, and it was characteristic of her that the idea of seeking work elsewhere than with the Director of the Midland Supply Depôt never occurred to her. "A penny for your thoughts, Gracie."