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with him, but see him daily since it appeared he was going to work from Mr Gillett’s office for an indefinite period—had to be brushed aside, as Crawford Arrowsmith got straight down to issuing instructions for what he wanted her to do that day.
    By mid-morning she was forced to give way to the reluctant admiration that had started to grow once he’d got started. One couldn’t but admire the way the smallest detail was checked, the largest, most complicated of issues dealt with in a thorough and concise way. Nothing it seemed was overlooked by his eagle eye, end where Mr Gillett would sometimes dump a file in his pending tray saying, ‘We'll look at that tomorrow,’ there was none of that with Crawford Arrowsmith.
    ‘What’s this lot?’ he asked at one stage, taking a batch of files from a cabinet Mr Gillett had always kept locked.
    Gerry had to confess she didn’t know. ‘There were certain things Mr Gillett said were confidential to the board room only—I never handled anything from that cabinet.’
    His face set in stony lines, his lips tightening as he flipped through every one of the files. She wondered if he believed her when she told him she had no idea what the files contained, and stood ready to defend herself if he challenged her statement. Then he looked across at her, his eyes fastening on her, taking in the tenseness about her. She saw his mouth relax, saw again the warmth of his mouth and steadied herself ready for more of his stinging sarcasm. But when he spoke, his voice was devoid of sarcasm—instead she thought it was touched with a superior type of amusement, and she didn’t care for that either.
    ‘Don’t tie yourself up in knots, Miss Barton—I’m sure you’re a regular little George Washington.’ Then, waiting only briefly to see if her composure would crack, he went on, ‘I think it’s about time you were let into one or two secrets of confidential board room matters.’
    And while it was sinking in that unbelievably Crawford Arrowsmith believed her, trusted her, he was getting down to the business of telling her what he wanted doing with this file—dictating several letters in connection with the next file—and without any break in his concentration, he worked solidly through file after file.
    By the time lunch time came around Gerry’s head was spinning. She wondered if he intended to break for lunch, for it seemed he was oblivious of the time. But at ten past one he called a halt and finished the letter he was dictating to lean back in his chair and flick his eyes over her.
    She was conscious that a strand of hair had worked its way loose from the severe knot at the back of her head. It bent its way into a wave to caress the side of her face, the end still confined by pins. She knew it would soften the whole effect of her cool, calm image, but couldn’t allow herself the weakening movement of pulling it back into place. Crawford Arrowsmith would know for sure he had disconcerted her if she did that.
    'I bet you’re quite something when you decide to let yourself go,’ he said, his eyes holding hers to catch her start of surprise at his personal comment.
    'You’re never likely to know, are you?’ she came back after a couple of seconds of marshalling her cool. She didn’t like at all the way that ghost of a smile flickered over his mouth, and wished she’d remained quiet. She hadn’t intended any hint of challenge in her words, but thought he might construe them that way—though it was hardly likely that the head of the Arrowsmith empire would look twice at her; not that she wanted him to, of course. It was with the utmost relief she saw he was going to ignore her remark, though she couldn’t help feeling slightly uncomfortable as he ignored it, for all her comment had been deserved .
    ‘We’ll break for lunch now—I expect you’ll be going along to the canteen. The worst of the queue will be over by now.'
    Gerry returned to her desk hoping he would be going out