Mr Murphy cleared his throat and looked helplessly about him. It was his usual beginning. Then he picked up the letter he was to answer. He waited a moment for the words to come to him.
“Dear,” he began. She made the figure for the word. He paused, studying the ceiling. He began again, “Dear Mr Lachum, In reply to your letter of the 16th, etc., etc....” He stopped and closed his eyes; this seemed to help. “I cannot, I fear, agree with you in your analysis of certain trends now at work ... no, now abroad ... in the financial world.” His voice became firm and concise, “Although I have the greatest personal esteem for the opinions of yourself and associates, uh, in re to the stock market, I must, in this instance, disagree with you, for I am of the opinion that this is a rising market and will continue to be so. All statistics at hand ... no, available, point to just that. Hoping to hear from you again, and so on.” Mr Murphy stopped and opened his eyes. He looked pleased and exhilarated.
“That’s a very nice letter, Mr Murphy. Knowing Mr Lachum, I think you were certainly nice to him.”
“Well, it never does to offend people, Caroline. That’s a rule with me. That’s something I’ve always followed. I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t been that way.” He paused and they both thought of a world where there was no Mr Murphy because he had offended people.
“All right, let’s hear that letter back.”
Caroline read the letter. Mr Murphy listened, pleased.
“That’s fine,” he said when she had finished. “Type it up please.”
Caroline went back to her desk. The sunlight and the glittering dust were almost out of the room now. Soon they would turn on the fluorescent lights over their desks. Caroline sometimes wished that the morning would last all day.
Caroline put a piece of paper in her typewriter. She started to type; then she remembered that all letters must be done in triplicate. She pulled the sheet of paper out of the machine. Wearily, enjoying her weariness, she arranged more paper in the typewriter.
Her fingers moved swiftly over the keys. She made rhythms as she typed, as the keys clattered on the white paper.