"I was going to ask you to join up for the Land Army"
"I! Oh, I should be no earthly good at that sort of thing," I assured her pettishly, I'm afraid. "I must get back to the office."
"A pity," remarked the fair recruiter regretfully. "Perhaps you've a friend who's not so busy. Would you pass these on?"
I took the leaflets she offered.
"Good-bye," she said. Once out of sight of that energetic young worker, I rolled her papers into a ball and tossed them into a county council waste-paper bin.
That is, I thought I did.
My head ached so desperately that I hardly knew what I was doing by the time I got out of the glare of Whitehall and into the gloom of the office.
I was before Mr. Winter, the chief who disliked me as much as he disliked open windows. Here was my chance to let in an apology for a breath of air. I tugged at the window. It was stiff. Down it came at last. But the effort had been too much for me in my run-down state; it made me feel positively sick.
Then came the last straw.