"I think it's so awfully sweet of you to come," she said at last. "I
know what a good time you have at home; your cousin's often told me.
Don't you think he's splendid?"

To that question Thyme made no answer.

"Isn't this work horrid," she said--"prying into people's houses?"

The grey girl smiled. "It is rather awful sometimes. I've been at it six
months now. You get used to it. I've had all the worst things said to me
by now, I should think."

Thyme shuddered.

"You see," said the grey girl's faintly smiling lips, "you soon get the
feeling of having to go through with it. We all realise it's got to be
done, of course. Your cousin's one of the best of us; nothing seems to
put him out. He has such a nice sort of scornful kindness. I'd rather
work with him than anyone."

She looked past her new associate into that world outside, where the
sky seemed all wires and yellow heat-dust. She did not notice Thyme
appraising her from head to foot, with a stare hostile and jealous, but
pathetic, too, as though confessing that this girl was her superior.

"I'm sure I can't do that work!" she said suddenly.

The grey girl smiled. "Oh, I thought that at first." Then, with an
admiring look: "But I do think it's rather a shame for you, you're so