Roland, casting his eyes over the desk. "Here are these leases, but
they are not wanted until to-morrow. Who says we can't work in this
office?"

Arthur laughed good-naturedly, to think of the small amount, out of
that day's work, which had fallen to Roland's share.

Some time elapsed. Mr. Galloway came into their room from his own to
consult a "Bradshaw," which lay on the shelf, alongside Jenkins's desk.
He held in his hand a very closely-written letter. It was of large,
letter-paper size, and appeared to be filled to the utmost of its four
pages. While he was looking at the book, the cathedral clock chimed the
three-quarters past two, and the bell rang for divine service.

"It can never be that time of day!" exclaimed Mr. Galloway, in
consternation, as he took out his watch. "Sixteen minutes to three! and
I am a minute slow! How has the time passed? I ought to have been at--"

Mr. Galloway brought his words to a standstill, apparently too absorbed
in the railway guide to conclude them. Roland Yorke, who had a free
tongue, even with his master, filled up the pause.

"Were you going out, sir?"

"Is that any business of yours, Mr. Roland? Talking won't fill in that
lease, sir."

"The lease is not in a hurry, sir," returned incorrigible Roland. But
he held his tongue then, and bent his head over his work.