He—what? “But—”

“There are no buts, Lilian Blackwell. You may not wear a uniform, but you are an employee of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, and as such, your comings and goings are not yours to decide. You will not resign just because you had a bad night. You will keep fighting this war in the way God and king have asked of you. Do I make myself clear?”

Digging her hands into the back of the chair across from his desk, she shook her head. “But I can’t, sir. I can’t live with myself, knowing—”

“Knowing what?” He straightened the rest of the way, eyes flashing. “That you obeyed the command of your superior officer? Or do you think I too ought to be so guilt-ridden that I should resign?”

Lily opened her mouth, though she wasn’t certain how to reply. Of course she didn’t think he should resign, but that was different. Wasn’t it?

He lifted a brow. “Or perhaps you think you know better than I how to run this division? Do you know all the inner workings of the High Command? Are you fit to decide how and when to use the intelligence that comes across this desk?”

She tried to swallow, though it did nothing to ease her throat. She could only shake her head again.

“I thought not.” He rounded the desk, and though he wasn’t more than a few inches taller than she was, it felt as though he towered over her. “We make difficult choices here every day. What information we can act on, what we cannot. And yes, people die, Lilian. People die because of the information we act on or file away. This is the burden of intelligence, but it is not a burden that you have the right to feel guilty over.”

The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of the admiral, but it took everything within her to hold it back. “How? How can I not?”

“Because that is grossly unfair to all the lives you save with your work. All the bombs that have not fallen because you helped me dissuade the enemy or redirect them. All the soldiers and agents whose identities you protect.” He lifted her bag, shoved it back into her arms. “You will not resign.”

Her arms closed around the bag. But she couldn’t convince her brows to stop frowning. “Sir—”

“You will, however, upon your father’s request, work from home rather than here.”

At least the sudden fury burned away the threat of tears. “He didn’t!”

Hall blinked at her. “You may feel free, of course, to take home any and all supplies from your darkroom here. After which, your father will act as courier for you.”