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Sure enough, chatting with the stenographer was a man with one of those black bags which doctors carry. He was a young man in appearance, one of those whom one sees in the White Light District, with unnaturally bright eyes which speak of late hours and a fast pace. He wore a flower in his buttonhole a very fetching touch with some women.
Back in his office again, giving himself another ten minutes of grave amused consideration, before he called the stenographer, he looked up, at the opening of the door, and saw Anne. She came forward at once and without closing the door, as if to assure him she would not keep him long. There was no misreading the grave trouble of her face.
Their heads came close together over the little, rose-shaded restaurant table. At eleven o'clock next morning Fat Ed Meyers walked into the office of the T. A. Buck Featherloom Petticoat Company and asked to see old T. A. "He's in Europe," a stenographer informed him, "spaing, and sprudeling, and badening. Want to see T. A. Junior?" "T. A. Junior!" almost shouted Ed Meyers.
Often she would find someone in the office looking at her strangely. She used to wonder about it a little. And then one day Mr. Osborne sent for her to come into his office. He acted so queerly. As she came in and sat down near his desk he swung his chair around and sat there with his back to her. After that he got up and walked to the window. The head stenographer had complained of her cough.
Questioned as to her habits, Mrs. F. said she did all her own housework except the washing and ironing and scrubbing. She had a little girl three times a week to take the baby out. Before marriage she had been a stenographer, but never earned high pay and had no love for her work.
It was hard for him to think of Angela being thrown out on the world as a book-keeper or a stenographer. He did not want to see her doing anything like that. In a way, he wanted to live with her, if it could be done in his way much as the Mormons might, perhaps. What a lonely life hers would be if she were away from him! And she was not suited to it.
Please count the number of the members of the Committee who are present. Sellers' question, the raps counted the number of the Committee present, the number seven was indicated. This counted in Mr. George S. Pepper and the Stenographer. Mr. Sellers: Are there seven members of the Committee present? Three raps. Mr. Sellers: Are they all seated around one table? No response.
He then left them alone, while he went to inquire how soon they could have an audience with the great sibyl. Having told Mrs. Warne who her visitors were, the usher hurried over to my office and informed me. I instantly called my stenographer, and we proceeded quickly to the back room, where we took our seats behind the curtain. A lady was already in Mrs.
WARREN REYBURN laid down his pen and shoved back his office chair impatiently, stretching out his long muscular limbs nervously and rubbing his hands over his eyes as if to clear them from annoying visions. James Ryan, his office boy and stenographer, watched him furtively from one corner of his eye, while his fingers whirled the typewriter on through the letter he was typing.
"I was only a stenographer, and we were very poor, and he was rich and lived in a big house, the most important man in Hampton. It seemed too good to be true I suppose I never really thought it could happen. Please don't think I'm putting all the blame on him, Mrs. Maturity it was my fault just as much as his. I ought to have gone away from Hampton, but I didn't have the strength.
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