Clare was almost in tears.
"I can't bear to think of your sleeping in that bed, Mrs. Valentine,"
she protested. "It dips down so."
"I shan't have much time to sleep, anyhow. And when I do so I shall
be so tired! - What was the name I gave her, Clare?"
"Thompson. Mary Thompson."
"She surprised me, or I'd have thought of a prettier one." She was
absurdly high-spirited, although the next day's ordeal rather
worried her when she thought about it. She had, oddly enough, no
trepidation about the work itself. It was passing the detectives
in the employment department that worried her. As a matter of fact,
however, there was no ordeal. Her card was carried to the desk in
the corner, where the two men sat on whose decisions might so easily
rest the safety of the entire plant, and they surveyed her carefully.
Audrey looked ahead, and waited. They would come over and question
her, and the whole fabric she had built would be destroyed. But
nothing happened. She was told she would be notified in a day or
two if she would be taken on, and with that she was forced to be
content.
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