dictatedsomeletterstoherandsodiscoveredshehadpretty，soft-lookinghandswithpinknails。Onceortwice，meetingcasually，welookedoneanotherfortheflashofasecondintheeyes。

　　Thatwasall。Butitwasenoughinthemysteriousfree-masonryofsextosayessentialthings。Wehadasecretbetweenus。

　　OnedayIcameintoRaggettStreetatlunchtimeandshewasalone，sittingatherdesk。SheglancedupasIentered，andthenbecameverystill，withadowncastfaceandherhandsclenchedonthetable。Iwalkedrightbyhertothedooroftheinneroffice，stopped，camebackandstoodoverher。

　　Weneitherofusspokeforquiteaperceptibletime。Iwastremblingviolently。

　　“Isthatoneofthenewtypewriters？”Iaskedatlastforthesakeofspeaking。

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