“Mr. Grimshaw thinks that the chronic sickness in Upworthy might be wiped out, if—if he could count upon the active backing of authority.”
Cicely assimilated this.
“You mean Mother?”
Grimshaw added quickly:
“And you. Would you work with me on modern lines?”
“Modern lines? Are we modern, Dr. Pawley?”
Pawley glanced at her pretty frock.
“In our frocks, yes.”
Cicely accepted the compliment demurely, conscious of the fact that her dressmaker was in the first flight, conscious, too, that Brian’s wonderful friend, Old Grimmer, was indifferent, perhaps, to the envelope but not to what it held. His penetrating glances had not escaped notice. She wondered how much her powers of persuasion would count.
“You must talk to Mother, Mr. Grimshaw. She has the welfare of our people next her heart. I hope you will stay here. As for me——”