‘Please, ma’am, Commander Christy would like to have a word with you.’
Miss Annersley, Head of the Chalet School in England, looked up from the lists she was checking rapidly and gave Gwladys, the head housemaid, a startled look. ‘What did you say, Gwladys? Commander Christy? Very well; show him in here, please.’ Then, as the girl stumped off to do her bidding, she shuffled her sheets together and nodded to Miss Dene, her secretary, who was working at a little table in the farther window. ‘I’m not sorry for the break. We’ve been mulling over these wretched things until my head’s in a whirl and I don’t suppose yours is much better. Wait a moment, Rosalie,’ as that young lady began gathering up her possessions and prepared to depart. ‘Michael Christy may have something to say that concerns you as well as me.’
The sound of firm, manly footfalls prevented Rosalie Dene from making any reply. The next moment the door opened again and Gwladys announced, ‘Commander Christy.’
The Head rose and went to meet her visitor with outstretched hand. ‘Good morning, Michael. Why the formality? Usually you just wander in unheralded.’
Michael Christy, a tall, fair ex-Naval man, grinned, showing a set of magnificent teeth. His blue sailor’s eyes twinkled at her greeting.