"Cleaning and sorting out the small finds which the workmen bring in each night, and you could help Mike to do some copying—it's not difficult, and sometimes the colours vanish when they are exposed to the light. He can't get the things done all at one time."
"I see," Margaret said, but in her mind there was a horrible jumble.
"Sometimes I want Mike to help me—we're awfully short of hands just now—I mean, for hands that you can absolutely trust, so if you get into the thing you could do some of Mike's work and let him off."
"I'd love to, and you know my capability as well as anyone, so if you think I could I'll do my best."
"You'll soon know as much as Mike did when he came here, and your painting's all right."
"How nice Mike is!" she said simply.
"He's one of the best."
"Is he going to make Egyptology his profession?"
"I don't know—I don't think so. I'm afraid it's just another bit of
Mike's drifting."
"What a pity!" Margaret was practical.