"I'm sorry, but it's quite out of the question. Naturally, one rule applies to the whole staff, and I shall not expect any one to be absent from duty except on Christmas Day itself, which will be treated as a Sunday. As for ten days, the suggestion is absurd, Miss Collins. I consider that you've practically had ten days' holiday during my absence—and more."
"I've been here every day as usual, and cut any number of stencils, and rolled them off," Miss Collins cried indignantly.
"I'm glad to hear it. Why do you want leave now?"
Miss Collins giggled, tried to look coy, and at last said in triumphant tones, which strove to sound matter-of-fact: "I'm going to be married."
There was silence. Char was drawing a design absently on her blotting-pad.
"My friend is getting leave at the end of next week, and we've settled to be married before he goes out again. He's an Australian boy."
"Of course, that slightly alters the case," Char said at last, stiffly. "Do you wish to go on working here just the same?"
"Oh, yes, Miss Vivian. What I feel is, that with him out there, I simply must be doing my bit at home. It'll take my mind off, too, like, and as he says—"
Char interrupted her ruthlessly.
"In the circumstances, Miss Collins, you can take eight days' leave at the end of this week. But I may tell you that you have chosen a most inconvenient moment, with the Christmas rush coming on and a great deal of back work to be done."