The grey girl looked at Martin.

"Oh! Won't to-morrow do for all that sort of thing? I'm sure you must be
tired. Mr. Stone, do make her rest!"

Martin's glance seemed to say: 'Please leave your femininities!'

"If you mean business, your work will be the same as hers," he said;
"you're not qualified. All you can do will be visiting, noting the state
of the houses and the condition of the children."

The girl in grey said gently: "You see, we only deal with sanitation
and the children. It seems hard on the grown people and the old to leave
them out; but there's sure to be so much less money than we want, so
that it must all go towards the future."

There was a silence. The girl with the shining eyes added softly:
"1950!"

"1950!" repeated Martin. It seemed to be some formula of faith.

"I must send this telegram!" muttered Thyme.

Martin took it from her and went out.

Left alone in the little room, the two girls did not at first speak. The
girl in grey was watching Thyme half timidly, as if she could not tell
what to make of this young creature who looked so charming, and kept
shooting such distrustful glances.