“You can’t guess what I felt about it. I worked hard; I did everything correctly; and I knew him better than anyone else, so that I could help him just when he needed it. Of course, I’m not his only secretary; but I know I suit him better than any of the others. I’ve begun to pay off my debt to him bit by bit; and yet I always seem just as deep in as ever. He’s always been so good to me, you know. But still, I am useful to him; and I’m not merely there on sufferance now. I know he appreciates my work.”
“I doubt if you would be there long if he didn’t,” I said. “From what I have seen of him he isn’t likely to employ amateurs even as a favour. I think he would have let you see you were useless unless you had made good.”
“Oh, if he had been the least dissatisfied with me I would have gone at once as soon as I saw it. I want to be a help and not a hindrance. But now I have answered your question, although it has taken rather a long time to do it.”
Some inane compliment came to my lips but I bit it back without speaking it. She didn’t seem to be the sort of girl who wanted flattery.
“I think you are helping more than Mr. Nordenholt with your work just now,” I said at length. “You seem to have found your way into the centre of the biggest thing this country has ever seen.”
Her face clouded for a moment.
“Yes, it’s a great thing, isn’t it? But do you ever think what failure might mean, Mr. Flint? Think of all these poor people starving and of us unable to help them. It would be terrible. Sometimes I think of it and it makes me feel that we bear a fearful responsibility. I don’t mean that I personally have any real responsibility. I don’t take myself so seriously as all that. But the men at the head, Uncle Stanley and the rest of you—it’s a fearful burden to take on your shoulders. I’m only a cog in the machine and could be replaced to-morrow; but you people, the experts, couldn’t be replaced. Fifty millions of people! I can’t even begin to understand what fifty million deaths would mean. I do hope, oh, I do so hope that we shall be successful. If anyone but Uncle Stanley were at the head of it I should doubt; but I feel almost quite safe with him at the helm. He never failed yet, you know.”
“No,” I said, “he never failed yet.”
What would she think when the full plans of Nordenholt—who “never failed yet”—were revealed to her? I wondered how this fragile girl would take it. She wouldn’t simply weep and forget, I was sure. She seemed to have high ideals and she evidently idolised Nordenholt. It would be a terrible catastrophe for her. I dreaded the next steps in the conversation, for I did not want to lie to her; and I saw no other way out of it if she turned the talk into the wrong channel.
Nordenholt’s hour was up and I began to feel that the old life was slipping away from me again. For a few minutes we sat silent; for she did not speak and I was afraid to reopen the conversation lest she should continue her line of thought. I watched her as she sat: the tiny shoe, the sweep of the black gown without a sparkle of jewellery to relieve it, the clean curves of her white throat, and over all the lustre of her hair. Would there be any place for all this in the new world? I wondered. Things would be too hard for her fragility, perhaps.