Part 42 (1/2)
He noted that she sat down stenographically--very concisely. She perched her notebook on the desk of one crossed knee and perked her eyes up as alertly as a sparrow.
All this professionalism sat so quaintly on the two Marie Louises he had known that he roared with laughter as at a child dressed up.
She smiled patiently at his uproar till it subsided. Then he sobered and began to dictate:
”Ready? 'Miss Mamise'--cross that out--'Miss Marie Louise Webling'--you know the address; I don't. 'Dear--My dear'--no, just 'Dear Miss Webling. Reference is had to your order of recent date that this house engage you as amanuensis.' Dictionary in the bookcase outside--comma--no, period. 'In reply I would--I wish to--I beg to--we beg to say that we should--I should just as soon engage Mona Lisa for a stenographer as you.' Period and paragraph.
”'We have,'--comma,--'however,'--comma,--'another position to offer you,'--comma,--'that is, as wife to the senior member of this firm.'
Period. 'The best wages we can--we can offer you are--is the use of one large,'--comma,--'slightly damaged heart and a million thanks a minute.' Period. 'Trusting that we may be favored with a prompt and favorable reply, we am--I are--am--yours very sincerely, truly yours,'--no, just say 'yours,' and I'll sign it. By the way, do you know what the answer will be?”
”Yes.”
”Do you mean it?”
”I mean that I know the answer.”
”Let me have it.”
”Can't you guess?”
”'Yes'?”
”No.”
”Oh!”
A long glum pause till she said, ”Am I fired?”
”Of course not.”
More pause. She intervened in his silence.
”What do I do next, please?”
He said, of habit, ”Why, sail on, and on, and on.”
He reached for his basket of unanswered mail. He said:
”I've given you a sample of my style, now you give me a sample of yours, and then I'll see if I can afford to keep you as a stenographer instead of a wife.”
She nodded, went to a typewriter in a corner of his office, and seated herself at the musicless instrument. Her heart pit-a-patted as fast as her fingers, but she drew up the letter in a handsome style while he sat and stared at her and mused upon the strange radiance she brought into the office in a kind of aureole.
He grew abruptly serious when Miss Gabus, his regular stenographer, entered and stared at the interloper with amazement, comma, suspicion, comma, and hostility, period. She murmured a very rasping ”I beg your pardon,” and stepped out, as Marie Louise rose from the writing-machine and brought him an extraordinarily accurate version of his letter.
And now he had two women on his hands and one on his heart. He dared not oust Miss Gabus for the sake of Miss Webling. He dared not show his devotion to Marie Louise, though as a matter of fact it made him glow like a lighthouse.
He put Mamise to work in the chief clerk's office. It was noted that he made many more trips to that office than ever before. Instead of pressing the buzzer for a boy or a stenographer, he usually came out himself on all sorts of errands. His buzzer did not buzz, but the gossip did.
Mamise was vaguely aware of it, and it distressed her till she grew furious. She was so furious at Davidge for not being deft enough to conceal his affection that she began to resent it as an offense and not a compliment.