"Twelve-twenty-five," was the prompt reply—"after Downing Street and before signatures. But I will not exert my influence to have him made Commander-in-Chief!"
At twelve-twenty Marjorie presented herself to Mr. Meadows, in the secretary's room, and was passed through double doors into the presence of the minister. His lordship looked up over his spectacles and indicated a chair.
"Habakkuk! Good! Sit down. Four-and-a-half minutes! Well?"
"I want to say," announced Marjorie, plunging head foremost into her confession, "that I can't stay here any longer."
"Why?"
"I am not happy in my mind. I must go away."
"Good gracious! Don't say Meadows has fallen in love with you! I will not permit my subordinates to encroach upon my prerogatives! No—not that? Proceed, then!"
"I think I ought to leave you," Marjorie continued, quite unmoved by her employer's senile quips, "because I am having too good a time. I have been feeling all along that I ought to be doing something else."
"So I have observed. Well?"
"The only trouble is that if I go back to the canteen work (where they want my help very badly), I shan't get paid for it; and I can't afford to work without pay of some kind. I have a small allowance from home, but it doesn't go far, and the girl I share a flat with was pretty hard up when I first picked—became acquainted with her."