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"Oh, no. They're supposed to keep themselves out of their wages, and anything I spend they pay me back, though sometimes I have to let it run a week or two. . . . Oh, good morning, Mrs. Turner. Do you want to speak to me?"

A woman had come out of the door just as they reached it. She was big and fair, with rather a pretty face still smeared with yesterday's make-up. Rosamund, who recognized her type, guessed that she had just got out of bed and wore nothing more than her shoes and a cooking overall.

"Yes, Miss, I'd like a word with you if you don't mind. It's about the stove."

"Oh, Yes. I'm seeing about that. But do you mind if I take this lady upstairs first and show her the office? She's our new secretary."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure, Miss—er—"

"My name's Gailey—Mrs. Gailey."

"Mrs. Gailey, that's right. I'll wait for you down here, Miss."

"I shan't be a moment," apologized Lesley, ushering Rosamund up rather a sudden flight of stairs.

At the top they found an open door and a large, low room full of sunshine. It looked quite comfortable, with a settee and two armchairs as well as the usual office furniture. Rosamund glanced anxiously at the typewriter and was relieved to find it a make she had used before. Everything looked very tidy, as if the day's work had not yet begun, but there was a good deal of dust about.