"I never heard anybody," Felix snapped.
Lilian thought how queer and how unjust it was that she should be prevented by her inferior station from turning on him and bluntly informing him that he had been asleep instead of managing the office.
"It's an article by Lord Mackworth for to-morrow's Evening Standard, and it has to be at the Standard office by half-past eight, and I've promised to have it delivered at Jermyn Street by six-thirty."
"But who's going to deliver it?"
"I am, as I go home."
"But this is urgent too. And, what's more, I've definitely promised it," Mr. Grig protested, waving his manuscript somewhat forlornly. "What length's yours?"
"It's not the length. It has to be done with the greatest care."
"Yes, that's all very well, but----"
His attitude of helplessness touched her. She smiled in her serious manner.
"If you'll leave it to me to see to, Mr. Grig," she said soothingly, and yet a little superiorly, "I'll do the best I can. I'll start it, anyhow. And I'll leave an urgent note for Miss Jackson about it. After all, in two hours they ought to be able to do almost anything, and you know how reliable Miss Jackson is. Miss Grig always relies on her."