United States or British Indian Ocean Territory ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He reached Wilding's office and found the man, a young fellow who appeared capable and alert. He also found, with a distinct shock, the girl who had occupied a niche in his memory for nineteen years. He found her with banged and docked hair, rouged and bepowdered, clad in georgette and glimmering artificial silk, tapping at a typewriter in Wilding's office.
If not there, go to every typewriter firm in Paris until it matches.... Go to the offices of the Compagnie Transatlantique and get a list of sailings on the Cherbourg-Quebec route. Give no name.... Meanwhile, 'phone your journalist friend and have him call on me." "What reason shall I give him, sir?" "Anything that will pull him here.
No, he checked himself because in the manner of this frail and mouselike creature, dim though she once more was, there appeared a dignity, a reserve, that made intrusion curiously impossible. With an apologetic note in his voice a kind and friendly voice he said: "Please have your typewriter brought in here. I want you to do some work for me work that isn't to be spoken of not even to Mr. Tetlow."
She prefers intellectual to manual occupations, and is not so fond of fancy work as many of the blind children are; yet she is eager to join them in whatever they are doing. She has learned to use the Caligraph typewriter, and writes very correctly, but not rapidly as yet, having had less than a month's practice.
He tried the door and found it locked, and as he drew out his key he heard suddenly the click of the typewriter inside. Miss Farrell was rarely at the office at night, but as Harwood opened the door, he found her busily tapping the keys of her machine. She swung round quickly with an air of surprise, stretched herself, and yawned.
"I want to know if I can get a position," she inquired. "As what?" he asked. "Not as anything in particular," she faltered. "Have you ever had any experience in the wholesale dry goods business?" he questioned. "No, sir," she replied. "Are you a stenographer or typewriter?" "No, sir." "Well, we haven't anything here," he said. "We employ only experienced help."
So, of course, it would be Peter's duty to report her to the head of the secret service of the Traction Trust. Peter regretted this, and was ashamed of having to do it; she was a nice little girl, and pretty, too, and a fellow might have had some fun with her if she had not been in such a hysterical state. He would sit and look at her, as she sat bent over her typewriter.
But the modern prophet who expects to influence the minds of men has to have books and newspapers; he will find a telephone and a typewriter and postage-stamps hardly to be dispensed with, also in Europe and America some sort of a roof over his meeting place. So the prophet is caught, like all the rest of us, in the net of the speculator and the landlord.
No more was said upon the subject until the next day and Marian was afraid it was forgotten, but in the afternoon Miss Dorothy called her. "Come in here, young woman, and earn your trip to town." Marian obeyed with alacrity. Miss Dorothy was seated before her typewriter. "Come here and I will show you what you have to do," she said. "You are to make twenty copies of this little slip.
Then chase back and buy yourself a portable typewriter. And, if I were you, I'd start learning it, right tonight. Then, hey! Off for the West Indies again, eh?" "What for? You've got your berth, you've got your money, you're going to get your passport, and you've got your assignment. Nothing more for you to do, Son, except to get down there and deliver the goods."
Word Of The Day