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Updated: June 22, 2025
Along two walls were rows of costly volumes, many relating to modern inventions. On the walls hung some rare steel engravings, including one of Fulton and his first steamboat. There was a large library table, with a student's lamp, a mahogany roller-top desk, half a dozen comfortable chairs, and a small, but well-built safe, which, as said before, was closed and locked.
From this she entered another apartment, much larger, and overlooking the little city park far below. The room was filled with books and pictures, and some wall brackets contained several bits of finely-carved statuary. There was one large roller-top desk and three comfortable leather chairs.
"The Americans are an extraordinary people on the practical side," he remarked; "but having said that, you have said all, for they are sordid, and absolutely devoid of ideality. Take an American at his roller-top desk, a telephone at one side and a typewriter at the other, talk to him of pork and dollars, and you have him at his very best.
As Wharton remained motionless she substituted: "My office." Peering into the room, Wharton found it suited to both titles. He saw comfortable chairs, vases filled with autumn leaves, in silver frames photographs, and between two open windows a business-like roller-top desk on which was a hand telephone. In plain sight through the windows he beheld the garage and behind it the tops of trees.
From within, a voice of unenthusiasm bade him enter, and he went in, closing the door behind him. In a swivel-chair by an open roller-top desk, a young man sat, idly smoking a cigarette, his back to the door, his languorous feet hung out of the window. There were electric lights in the room, but they were not lit.
After the eminent lawyer had fortified himself from a certain black bottle labeled "Poison: external use only," which sat beside the soap-dish in the little towel-cabinet, he assumed a very preoccupied and highly official mien at his roller-top desk, where he became vitally interested in a batch of letters, presumably that morning's mail, but which in reality bore dates ranging back to the past year.
I'm afraid Killigrew swore; distant thunder, off behind the hills there. He struck the desk with his balled fist. He knew it; it was that infernal opal of Kitty's getting in its deadly work. And what would Kitty say? What would she do? He stood up and pulled down the roller-top violently. The crash of it sent every clerk, bookkeeper and stenographer huddling over his or her work.
To him she added: "She calls herself Rose Gerard." One hand the girl held close against her side, with the other she brushed back the hair from her forehead. From half-closed eyes she stared at Wharton defiantly. "Well," she challenged, "what about it?" Wharton seated himself in front of the roller-top desk. "Are you strong enough to tell me?" he asked.
The father let it fall, laid his head down on the roller-top of the shut desk, and breathed heavily. The secretary ran for Mrs. Cheyne's doctor who found Cheyne pacing to and fro. "What what d' you think of it? Is it possible? Is there any meaning to it? I can't quite make it out," he cried. "I can," said the doctor. "I lose seven thousand a year that's all."
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