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The "zzzzz" of typewriter-carriages being shoved back. The roll of closing elevator doors, and the rumble of the ascending elevator. The long burr of an unanswered telephone at a desk, again and again; and at last an angry "Well! Hello? Yes, yes; this 's Mr. Jones. What-duh-yuh want?" Voices mingled; a shout for Mr. Brown; the hall-attendant yelping: "Miss Golden! Where's Miss Golden?
"Why haven't I the nerve to jump up and go out for a cup of tea the way he would? By jiminy! I will!" She was afraid of the indefinite menace concealed in all the Pemberton system as she signaled an elevator. But she did not answer a word when the hall-attendant said, "You are going out, Miss Golden?"
Opening the door Lanyard hailed the hall-attendant, a sleepy and not over-intelligent negro. "When did this come for me?" "'Bout anour ago, Mistuh Embuh." "Who brought it?" "A messenger boy done fotch it, suh look lak th' same boy." "What same boy?" "Same as come in when you do, 'bout 'leven o'clock remembuh?"
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