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Updated: May 16, 2025
We were in the very centre of the business part of the city, a part to which women hardly ever go, unless they are typists or manicure girls. Above our heads were offices, tiers and tiers of them. I wondered why there were so many florists' shops and sweet shops. The American business man must, I imagine, have a gentle and childlike heart.
Everything about the office was plain and rather dingy, but there were a great many file clerks and typists and considerable bustling about.
Then she looked up slowly. "Since when," he asked, "have I been the proud possessor of two secretaries?" "You left me letters enough for four, sir," Aaron reminded him. "I wanted to finish them all, so Julia stayed to help me." Maraton came smiling towards them. "Why, I am afraid I forgot," he said. "In America I used sometimes to have four typists working.
They might be going to be mothers' helps in the Sack ménage for all they knew, they might, they said, be going to be anything, from honoured guests to typists. "Can you type?" asked Mr. Twist. "No," said the twins. He took them in a taxi to Riverside Drive, and then they walked down to the charming footpath that runs along by the Hudson for three enchanting miles.
I couldn't do less than I do in the face of their helplessness. Nevertheless a day will come through what we do and what we refrain from doing when there will be no bound and limited clerks in Hoxton and no captive typists in the city. And nobody at all to consider." "According to the prophet Martineau," said Miss Grammont. "And then you and I must contrive to be born again."
The grim wound had so obviously made an end of the activity of that particular member and, as is war's way, had done it so evilly, with such absence of beauty, that only the human spirit could cover that hurt. So he and his comrades had made it the object of gaiety. For legless men, there are a dozen trades open, if they are trained. They can be made into tailors, typists, mechanicians.
These full-fed, well-housed, nobly cleaned delegates.... Henry quite untruly reported to his newspaper, which resented the high living of others, that some of them occupied as many as half a dozen rooms apiece in the hotels, with their typists, their secretaries, and their sycophantic suites.
Why, he sits there all day behind the gate in plain sight of a battery of twenty lady typists, some of 'em as kittenish young things as ever blew a week's salary into a permanent wave and I've never even seen him so much as roll an eye at one. Besides, he's as perfect a specimen of a Mommer's boy as you could find between here and the Battery. Not that he's a male ingénue.
He had met girls of a fairly good class for his looks caused much to be forgiven him as well as the typists, shop-girls and waitresses of his more usual association. But he had never met anyone quite like Joanna so simple yet so swaggering, so solid yet so ardent, so rigid yet so unguarded, so superior and yet, he told himself, so lacking in refinement.
How was that for an afternoon street costume to blow into the Corrugated general offices with on a winter's day? True, she's wearin' a gray sweater and what looked like a man's ulster over it; but there's no disguisin' the fact that the droopy-brimmed black sailor was a last summer's lid. Anyway, the whole combination seems to amuse the lady typists.
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