‘I was going to typewrite these at once,’ she said, ‘if you’ll allow me, and then go and help Charles in the book department.’
Keeling pushed back his chair as he often did when he was disposed for a few minutes’ talk, putting a gap between himself and his business table. He gave her a smile and a long look.
‘Have you seen the books?’ he said. ‘I’m almost ashamed to get a profit out of such muck. Beastly paper, beastly printing, and squash bindings. The more expensive they are, the more loathsome.’
She laughed.
‘They are pretty bad,’ she said. ‘But there’s a big sale for them. May I go and help Charles?’
‘And not do any work in my library this morning?’ he asked.
‘Unless you wish me to.’
He paused.
‘I do rather,’ he said. ‘I want that work to go on as usual. Monday is your regular day to go there.’
Now yesterday, when Norah met Mrs Keeling in the porch, the latter had been so very normal and condescending that she had scarcely given another thought to the encounter. Mrs Keeling had often met her coming or going to her work, and had always a word for her even as she had had yesterday. But instantly now, when Keeling expressed a wish that she should go there this morning, she connected it in her mind with that meeting.