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would never be his: male or female it would carry that skunk inside itself.
    When Bridget Mordaunt dismounted from her horse in the loading bay Mike meGregor, one of the two dray drivers, hurried towards her, saying, 'Good-day to you, Miss Mordaunt. Good-day to you. Tis a lovely day you've taken for riding.' Then turning his head, he called, 'You there, Larry? Come and take the miss's horse. And give him a drink, because it's sweatin' he is, the poor beast.'Looking at the grey-haired man, dressed in thick moleskin trousers and a blue twill shirt covered with a brown leather waistcoat, she said on a laugh, 'He's like his namesake, he has a depressing countenance.'The man nodded at her as if he understood who the namesake was, and as he walked across the yard by her side, twice he
    41stopped her in order to point out some trifling innovations of which she was already aware. And she smiled to herself at his delaying tactics, for she was already aware that Danny Green had scooted into the factory at the sight of her to warn old George that Miss Bridget was about to appear. She knew that she was addressed as Miss Mordaunt to her face but known as Miss Bridget among themselves, for that was how they would address her when she had accompanied her father on his visits. And as it was half-past four in the afternoon old George was likely in his office, cooling himself with a tankard of frothing beer that one of the lads had been sent out for. But wherever George Fields might be, she knew that the work in the factory would still go on at the same pace and to the same high standard, because Joe would see to that.It was Joe who came out of the doorway to greet her, saying, 'Good-afternoon, Miss Mordaunt. Tis nice to see you. Splendid weather, isn't it?''Yes, it is, Joe. But I thought it would have been a bit too hot for you in here.'Before Joe could give any answer she
    42turned to Mike McGregor, who was now touching his cap as he made to go back across the yard, and she said, 'Oh, by the way, Mike, how is your daughter?'The man's face brightened and he answered,
    'Never better, miss. Never better. This weather suits her down to the ground. 'Tis the damp and the winter that get at her chest. But she's been fine these past weeks. Pray God that such weather lasts.''Yes, indeed, Mike. Yes, indeed. Remember me to her.''I will, miss. I will indeed. And thank you.'As they went along the narrow passage leading into the factory, Joe said under his breath, 'I doubt she'll be bothered much longer with either the damp weather or the winter, miss.''As bad as that, Joe?''Yes, miss, as bad as that. She's on twentyseven and they usually go with the consumption round about that age.'She made no reply to this, only made a small motion with her head. Then they were stepping into the factory, and as always, she wondered how on earth these people stood
    43this atmosphere, with the smell, dust and black, black everywhere, day in and day out, from childhood to old age.She was walking down between benches occupied mostly by women, some packing the blocks of blacking paste, others dealing with boot-top liquid; still others with heel polish and brown dressing for untanned shoes.This part of the factory was comparatively clean; it was the workers in the mixing and boiling shop off the main room who, since she was a girl, had caused her to wonder how the men and women stood up to the work day after day until they died, for few of them were fortunate to reach retirement age, as old George had done.She had early learned the ingredients necessary to make the various polishes, but while the names had fascinated her, and she had amazed her father by rattling them off like the alphabet: such as Marseilles soap, Potassium carbonate, beeswax and water. Mix and boil together to a paste, then add a little at a time, stirring, stirring, powdered r°ck candy, powdered gum arabic, and ivory "lack. Stir until homogeneous, then pour, 44while still hot, into boxes. She had even