Women of all ages sat typing at small desks in the long room. The light was indirect and modern and very even. One could see that Heywood and Golden was a well-organized house.
People murmured good mornings to Caroline and Robert Holton as they walked together between the desks. At the end of the room there was a glass door behind which were a large blackboard, ticker tape machines, and men recording the prices of the various stocks.
“Look busy, don’t they?” commented Caroline.
“They certainly do. I wouldn’t have that job for anything.”
“I think it’d be sort of exciting.”
“Too much running around for me. I like to sit still.”
“It takes,” said Caroline, “all kinds to make up a world.”
“Isn’t that lucky?” said Robert Holton and Caroline didn’t know whether he was laughing at her or not. Sometimes he bothered her. She liked him. Almost everybody did because he was nice-looking and quiet. He was weak, though, she thought. She didn’t like a man to be weak. She wanted someone that she could lean on. Caroline Lawson was one of those pretty girls who could never bear weak men and yet, by nature, hated those who were stronger.
They stood and watched the ticker tape machines through the glass door. A tall white-faced boy was slowly marking figures on the blackboard. He stood on a small stepladder and as he wrote the figures his left foot tapped regularly and rhythmically on the top step of the ladder. Caroline wondered what tune he was making.
“You like to dance, don’t you?” she asked suddenly.