"That's all right," said Sophie affably; "I'm just done. Do sit down!"
The girl seated herself daintily. Sophie, observing that she wore no jewelry of any kind except a ring, in which the diamond was so large that it must surely be paste, decided that her visitor must be "hard up." She (Sophie) had not much of an opinion of that "black rag of a gown" either, but she thought she detected the faint murmur of a silk lining as her visitor moved. The lilac eyes looked at her winningly.
"I heard that you had a typewriting machine," she said, "and I wondered if you would be so good as to do a little typing for me—" She indicated a tiny roll of writing which she held in her hand. Miss Cornell sat up with an air.
"Oh, I don't take in work!" she said perkily. "I couldn't be bothered with that sort of thing. I'm sekertary to a gentleman who has an office down town."
"Lilac Eyes" regarded her calmly and did not seem overwhelmed by the importance of this communication.
"What a bother!" said she serenely.
Miss Cornell became languid.
"I get an enormous salary, and I have more work than I know how to get through already. Indeed, I am trying to get an assistant."
"Really?" said the other girl. "I wonder if I would suit you?"
"You!" Miss Cornell's face lit up with sudden interest and eagerness. She surveyed the other again. Of course, she was only a "hard-up" girl looking for work, and that air of gentle insolence that Sophie had been conscious of, was, after all, only "side" stuck on like the rose in the front of the simple black gown to hide poverty. Upon these reflections Miss Cornell's air became exceedingly patronising.