He raised his head and looked at her with cool, concentrated dislike.

“I’d rather stay where I am if you don’t mind.  I want to talk to Miss Redhead.”

“Oh—­” Mrs. Rankin’s flush went out like a blown flame.  Her lips made one pale, tight thread above the set square of her chin.  All her light was in her eyes.  They stared before her at the glass door where McClane was entering.

He came swaggering and slipped into his place between her and Alice Bartrum with his air of not seeing Mrs. Rankin, of not seeing Charlotte and John, of not seeing anything he didn’t want to see.  Presently he bobbed round in his seat so as to see Sutton, and began talking to him excitedly.

At the end of it Charlotte and Sutton found themselves alone, smiling into each other’s faces.

“Do you like him?” she said.

“I’m not sure.  All the same that isn’t a bad idea of Mrs. Rankin’s.”

It was Sutton who tried to work it the next morning, sounding McClane.

Charlotte was in the space between the glass doors, arranging their stores in their own cupboard.  McClane’s stores had overflowed into it on the lower shelves.  She could hear the two men talking in the room, Sutton’s low, persuasive voice; she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Suddenly McClane brought his fist down on the table.

“I’ll take you.  And I’ll take your women.  And I’ll take your ambulances.  I could do with two more ambulances.  But I won’t take Conway.”

“You can’t tell him that.”

“Can’t I!”

“What can you say?”

“I can say—­”

She pushed open the glass door and went in.  McClane was whispering furtively.  She saw Sutton stop him with a look.  They turned to her and Sutton spoke.

“Come in, Miss Redhead.  This concerns you.  Dr. McClane wants you and Miss Denning and me to join his corps.”

“And how about Mr. Conway?”

“Well—­” McClane was trying to look innocent.  “Mr. Conway’s just the difficulty.  There can’t be two commandants in one corps and he says he won’t take orders from me.”

(Mrs. Rankin must have talked about it, then.)

“Is that what you told Dr. Sutton?”

“Yes.”

His cold, innocent blue eyes supported him.  He was lying; she knew he was lying; that was not what he had said when he had whispered.

“You don’t suppose,” she said, “I should leave Mr. Conway?  And if I stick to him Gwinnie’ll stick.”

“And Dr. Sutton?”

“He can please himself.”

“If Miss Redhead stays I shall stay.”

“John will let you off like a shot, if you don’t want to.”

She turned to go and McClane called after her, “My offer remains open to you three.”

Through the glass door she heard Sutton saying, “If you’re right,
McClane, I can’t very well leave her with him, can I?”

Sutton was stupid.  He didn’t understand.  Lying on her bed that night Charlotte made it out.