She smiled.
"I have two in that little parcel there."
He broke the string and took one out. It was very neatly typewritten, and a quick glance down the page pleased him.
"Who typed it for you?" he asked.
"Did it myself," she answered. "I learnt shorthand, you know, years ago, and I bought a typewriter last week. I thought if nothing else turned up, I might earn a little that way."
"You are certainly not one of the helpless sort of young women," he said. "Will you let me have the stories for a few days?"
"Will it bother you?" she asked wistfully.
"Well, I don't think so," he assured her. "I won't let it."
Drexley, a little gaunt and pale, but more carefully dressed than usual in evening clothes, passed their table, looking for a vacant seat. Douglas touched his arm.
"Sit here, Drexley," he said. "We're off in a minute, and then you can have the whole table."