“No!” He stared at me, and laughed. “By God, that’s good. You’re sure? After working so hard to get all those samples, and then to write that note — I’ll be damned.”
“Yeah. When you get around to it... “
“Certainly. I used a typewriter at the Harvard Club.”
“Oh. You did.”
“I did indeed. I’ll be damned.”
“Yeah. Where do they keep this typewriter?”
“Why, it’s one — it’s available to any of the members. I was there last evening when the telegram came from Mr. Allenby, and I used it to write two or three notes. It’s in a little room off the smoking-room, sort of an alcove. A great many of the fellows use it, off and on.”
“Oh. They do.” I sat down. “Well, this is nice. It’s sweet enough to make you sick. It’s available to anybody, and thousands of them use it.”
“Hardly thousands, but quite a few—”
“Dozens is enough. Have you ever seen Paul Chapin use it?”