hat firmly; there was something imperious and dominating in her attitude altogether.
“Look, Sally,” she said, “these letters want copying. These I’ve not looked at. The question of the new census will have to be gone into carefully. But I’m going home now. Good night, Mr. Clacton; good night, Sally.”
“We are very fortunate in our secretary, Mr. Clacton,” said Mrs. Seal, pausing with her hand on the papers, as the door shut behind Mary. Mr. Clacton himself had been vaguely impressed by something in Mary’s behaviour towards him. He envisaged a time even when it would become necessary to tell her that there could not be two masters in one office—but she was certainly able, very able, and in touch with a group of very clever young men. No doubt they had suggested to her some of her new ideas.
He signified his assent to Mrs. Seal’s remark, but observed, with a glance at the clock, which showed only half an hour past five:
“If she takes the work seriously, Mrs. Seal—but that’s just what some of your clever young ladies don’t do.” So saying he returned to his room, and Mrs. Seal, after a moment’s hesitation, hurried back to her labours.
