"So it is. But, after all," said Char, torn between a desire to show John how very much she was enduring in a good cause, and at the same time how little she heeded such external conditions, "after all the work is what really matters. It's for the sake of the work I put up with what poor Brucey thinks are hardships." "But are they really necessary?" "What do you mean?" said Char, displeased. "It certainly isn't possible for a house built like the Hostel to be either as roomy or as convenient as Plessing is. A certain amount of discomfort is practically unavoidable." "Dear me! that's very hard on all of you. Don't the others find it trying? They have to be there all the time, don't they?" "What others?" was the freezing inquiry of the Director of the Midland Supply Depôt. Trevellyan looked at her in surprise, and replied quite simply: "The other workers, of course." "Oh, I really don't know. I naturally never see anything of them, except at the office; but, of course--well, I suppose they're used to very much that sort of thing at home." "Surely not. I was really thinking," Trevellyan remarked with some superfluity, "of Miss Jones." "You and my mother appear to find some recondite quality in Miss Jones which I'm unable to discover!" exclaimed Char, laughing a little. "Of course she's a lady, but really, as far as work goes--which is, of course, all that matters just now--I've had a great many clerks who can be of far more use than she can. It was a mistake having her out to Plessing that time." She spoke in a reflective tone that had a conclusive quality in it, but the tactless Trevellyan ignored the hint of finality and inquired matter-of-factly: "Why?" "Because it may make the silly girl imagine that she's on a sort of superior foothold. You know how idiotic some of them are about--well, about me--as Director of the Supply Depôt, I mean. They can't look upon me as a human being at all." "But you don't seem to want them to, Char. If you can live in the same house with them all and yet never see them except at the office, it's no wonder they don't look upon you as a human being." He spoke so quietly that it was only after a moment she realized the condemnation that lay behind his words. It hurt her more than she would have supposed possible. Like most complex organisms, she had an unreasoned craving for the approval of the very simple, and she had always thought that Johnnie, easy-going and uncritical, would accept her judgment as necessarily wider and more subtle than his own. "I see," she said, very low. "You accept me and my work only at my mother's valuation." "Well, no, Char. It isn't only that." John's voice held a certain regret, but no retractation. "It isn't only that evening at Plessing--though you know very well that I didn't see that question of your leaving home as you did--but every time I see you, you say or do something that makes me understand what Dr. Prince meant that evening."