“I am sorry you found the office deserted. I am Langley, the editor. What can I do for you? If it’s books, I don’t buy books. If it’s subscriptions, I can’t afford it.”
“It’s a job,” said Horatia.
“For me or you?” asked the man with a lazy smile. She liked his voice. It was well-bred. He was well-bred too and there was something vaguely familiar about his name.
“You’ve got one,” she countered.
He smiled neither in assent nor dissent.
“And you want one?”
“On a newspaper.”
“There are more substantial sheets than this one, you know.”
He spoke pleasantly and Horatia felt suddenly expansive and ready to talk.
“I’ve been to them all. One won’t have me, another wants me possibly to do society personals, and another wants me to run a spicy scandal column for them.”