"No. But the stuff you write, Van, is what drives me to cigarettes. So you make your own bed, you see. Hallo! Here's alone female to see me! Wonder who?"
He got up and went towards the door. "Did you wish to see me?" he inquired.
"The editor?" She hesitated a little but he assured her with a slight nod that she had found her man, and she followed him towards his desk. She took a seat beside him, and they began conversing in a tone so low that Vanstruther could only catch a stray word now and again. Presently she got up. "Very well then," she was saying, "you have my address; if anything should turn up, you will let me know, won't you?" With a little rustling of skirts she was gone. Presently they could here her voice saying "Down!" to the elevator boy.
"What was her game?" asked Vanstruther.
"Wanted to contribute poetry as a regular department. You can't fling a club around a corner anywhere in this town without hitting one of her kind, nowadays!"
"Then why didn't you tell her right away you weren't using anything of that sort?"
"Why, you infernal idiot, didn't you look at her?"
"No. Choice?"
"Very." He put a slip of paper into a pigeon hole, remarking as he did so, "Filed for future reference."
From the next room came a gruff voice, "Column of editorial to fill yet, Mr. Wooton."