Without glancing further at the manuscript, Lilian answered:
"It's our business to make out writing."
Suddenly she gave him her full smile.
"I suppose it is," he said, also smiling. "Now shall I call for the copy about 8 o'clock?"
"I'm afraid the office won't be open at 8 o'clock," said Lilian. "We close at 6.30 for an hour or two. But what's the address? Is it anywhere near here?"
"6a Jermyn Street. You'll see it all on the back of the last page."
"It could be delivered--dropped into your letter-box--by 6.30 this morning, and you could take it out of the box any time after that." The idea seemed to have spontaneously presented itself to her. She forbore to say that her intention was to deliver the copy herself on her way home.
"But this is most awfully obliging of you!" he exclaimed.
"Not at all. You see, we specialize in urgent things.... We charge double for night-work, I ought to tell you--in fact, three shillings a thousand, with a minimum."
"Of course! Of course! I quite understand that. Perhaps you'll put the bill in the envelope." He drew forth a watch that looked like a gold half-crown. "Two o'clock. And I can count on it being in the letter-box at six-thirty."