She hurried through her Saturday morning’s work, trying to keep warm. Perhaps it was nervousness and excitement about the afternoon’s appointment that made her seem so cold. At the end of her hour’s finicking work in Mr. Hancock’s empty fireless room, amongst cold instruments and chilly bottles of chemicals she was cold through. There was no one in the house but Mr. Leyton and the cousin; nothing to support her against the coming ordeal. Mr. Leyton had had an empty morning and spent it busily scrubbing and polishing instruments in his warm little room; retiring towards lunch time to the den fire with a newspaper. Shivering over her ledgers in the cold window space, she bitterly resented her inability to go out and get warm in an A.B.C. before meeting Mr. Shatov in the open. Impossible. It could not be afforded; though this morning all the absolutely essential work could be finished by one o’clock. It was altogether horrible. She was not sure that she was even supposed to stay for lunch on Saturday. The day ended at one o’clock; unless she were kept by some urgent business, there was no excuse. To-day she must have finished everything before lunch to keep her appointment. It could not be helped; and at least there was no embarrassment in the presence of Mr. Leyton and the boy. She would even lock up and put on her outdoor things and go down in them. It would not occur to them that she need not have stayed to lunch .... her spirits rose as she moved about putting things in the safe. She dressed in Mr. Leyton’s warm room, washing her hands in very hot water, thawing, getting warm .... the toque looked nice in his large mirror, quite stylish, not so home made ..... worldly people always had lunch in their outdoor things, even when they were staying in a house. Sarah said people ought always to wear hats, especially with evening dress ..... picture hats, with evening dress, made pictures. It was true, they would, when you thought of it. But Sarah had found it out for herself; without opportunities; it came, out of her mind through her artistic eyes. Miriam recalled smart middle-aged women at the Corries, appearing at lunch in extraordinary large hats, when they had not been out; that was the reason. It helped them to carry things off; made them talk well and quickly, with the suggestion that they had just rushed in from somewhere or were just going to rush off.... She surveyed herself once more. It was true; lunch even with Mr. Leyton and the cousin would be easier with the toque and her black coat open showing the white neckerchief. It gave an impression of hurry and gaiety. She was quite ready and looked about for entertainment for the remaining moments. Actually; a book lying open on Mr. Leyton’s table, a military drill-book of course. No. _What_ was this. Wondrous Woman, by J. B. G. Smithson. Why so many similar English initials? Jim, Bill, George, a superfluity of mannishness ... an attack of course; she scanned pages and headings;