"Tony isn't leaving, is she?" cried Grace.
"Yes, she is. Sent in her resignation two days ago. The fact is, she was altogether upset by that fuss we had about Miss Vivian the other day, and so she's decided that she wants a change. And Greengage says she won't stay without her. They always did hang together, you know."
"I don't altogether wonder at poor old Plumtree," Mrs. Potter observed thoughtfully. "Miss Vivian has always had a down on her, hasn't she? But she and Tony will be a loss to the Hostel, and so will you, dear."
"I don't like leaving a bit," Grace declared; "you've all been so nice to me, and I've been very happy here."
It was undeniable, however, that happiness was not destined to be the prevailing characteristic of Miss Jones's last day in the office.
Miss Vivian, seated at her paper-strewn table with all the old arrogance, if not actually with an additional touch of it to counteract the humanizing effect of the crêpe mourning band on her left arm, ignored her junior secretary as far as possible, but inspected her work with a closeness of attention that almost argued a desire to find it defective.
"You can hand over your work to Miss Delmege, Miss—er—Jones. She will take it over on Monday next."
"Yes, Miss Vivian."
"And bring me your files."
Char ran over the papers in the old way, with the murmured running commentary that denoted her utter unconsciousness of all but the task in hand, and at the same time made the extensive area covered by her official correspondence fully evident to the perceptions of whoever might be in the room with her.