As the girl warmed her hands at the radiator in the reception room the telephone chimed cheerily.

The telephone provides a welcome companionship for the office girl: its importunities and insolences are at once her delight and despair.

Rose took down the receiver with relief.

She parleyed guardedly with an unseen questioner and addressed Harwood from the door in the cautious, apologetic tone with which wise office girls break in upon the meditations of their employers.
"Pardon me, Mr.Harwood.Shall I say you're engaged.

It's Mr.Thatcher." Dan half-turned and replied with a tameness Rose had not expected.
"Say what you please, Rose; only I don't want to talk to him or see him, or anybody." The clock in the court-house tower boomed nine sombrely.