Here's that
weak-eyed, hollow-chested Saunders, that seems to have just life
enough to put in about ten hours a day reading 'The Duchess,'
getting cipher messages like the hero of a detective story. And
sending them, too, by the way. We operators are not supposed to
think; but all the same--" She got her receipt-book, filled
rapidly a blank line, tucked it under her arm, and went up and
tapped Evadna lightly upon the head with the envelope. "Want to
come along? Or would you rather stay here? I won't be more than
two minutes."
She was gone five; and she returned with a preoccupied air which
lasted until she had disposed of three chocolates and was
carefully choosing a fourth.
"Chicken," she said then, quietly, "do you know anything about
your uncle and his affairs?" And added immediately: "The chances
are ten to one you don't, and wouldn't if you lived there till
you were gray?"
"I know he's perfectly lovely," Evadna asserted warmly. "And so
is Aunt Phoebe."
"To be sure.
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