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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Aue!" they cried as I showed them my speed, which would be a shame to a typist. Chiefs especially were my visitors, thinking it proper to their estate and to mine that they should call upon me and invite me to their seats of government.
Jenkins smack his lips and seeing him distend his nostrils with anticipation; the unalloyed one of watching the pale face of little Miss Stubb, the typist, grow delicately pink and less dangerously thin, under the stimulus of good food; the amusement of congratulating Mrs. Banks, in public, on her new cook, and seeing Mrs.
There also went the confidential secretaries, the clerks and shorthand typists, in their hundreds; degreeless, brainless beings, but wise in their generation. 'I wish I was a shorthand typist, Jane grumbled, brooding with Katherine over their fire. 'Paris, Katherine turned over the delightful word consideringly, finding it wanting. 'The last place in the world I should choose to be in just now.
"What do you think of my typist, Burton?" He was putting a dish of make-believe before me it is a meatless day my one-legged cook is an artist but he thinks me a fool because I won't let him cheat our want of legs makes us friendly though. "And with a brother in the trade I could get Monsieur chickens and what he would wish!" he expostulates each week. "A-hem" Burton croaked.
Hollyer. Have you any idea whether Mrs. Creake has real ground for it?" "I should have told you that," replied Lieutenant Hollyer. "I happened to strike up with a newspaper man whose office is in the same block as Creake's. When I mentioned the name he grinned. 'Creake, he said, 'oh, he's the man with the romantic typist, isn't he? 'Well, he's my brother-in-law, I replied.
Jimmy did not know the City, but he knew a good deal of mankind, and he gleaned something of the spirit and traditions of that office, as his eyes wandered from the rows of black, shiny deed boxes to the equally shiny pate of the managing clerk, and then to the drab-looking girl typist, pale-faced and narrow-chested, who seemed to finger the key-board as though the maddening click of her abominable machine had killed any individuality she might once have had, and turned her into a mere part of the mechanism of the City.
Jepson, as the wife of the Tecolote Superintendent, was in a social class by herself and, even after Mary's startling rise to a directorship in the Company, Mrs. Jepson still thought of her as a typist. Still a certain feeling of loyalty to her husband, and a natural fear for his job, had prompted Mrs. Jepson, in so far as possible, to overlook this mere accident of occupation.
I leaned back and laughed bitterly! the realization that she understood so completely that it was only a "soulagement" an "asperine" for me, so to speak as the Duchesse said cut in like a knife. I had the exasperated feeling that I was just being pandered to, humored by everyone, because I was wounded. I was an object of pity, and even my paid typist but I can't write about it.
How hopelessly her bewitching image intruded itself between his reasoning mind and the problem upon which he sought to concentrate. Miss Smith, the typist, had gone, for it was after six o'clock, and Innes alone was on duty. He came in as Harley, placing his hat and cane upon the big writing table, sat down to study the report. "Inspector Wessex rang up, Mr. Harley, about an hour ago.
"Get well, my boy and these silly introspective fancies will leave you Self analysis all the time for those who sit still they imagine that they matter to the Bon Dieu as much as a Corps d'Armée !" "You are right, Duchesse, that is why I said Miss Sharp my typist probably thinks me a poor creature she gets at my thoughts when I dictate." "You must master your thoughts "
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