"She is a dear little spinster of fifty, with endless interests and not a hobby to her name, the most downright, practical person I have ever known, and the most helpful to strangers and pilgrims in the city. It is quite incidental that she is uncommonly rich and uncommonly homely. Nobody ever stops to think about either fact."
"And she has heard of Arlt?"
"Yes, she hears of everybody. She has a great talent for putting young men on their feet and teaching them to walk alone. In fact, she is a perfect employment bureau for meritorious youth. Somebody wrote to her that Mr. Arlt has genius and grit, and not a guinea to his name, and she is trying to get him some engagements."
"She asked you to help him?"
"Yes. At least, she spoke about him, and asked me to keep my eyes open and to say a good word for him, when I can. What does he want, Mr. Thayer?"
"Whatever he can get."
"What does he need, then?"
"Everything." Thayer's tone was grave.
"At least, that is comprehensive, Beatrix," her cousin assured her. "He may even be starved into eating your chloride of manna."
She ignored the interruption.