When they had finished he would ask them questions, still with his attention fixed apparently upon the paper in his hand.

Then, looking up for the first time, he would run off curt instructions, much in the tone of a Commander- in-Chief giving orders for an immediate assault; and, finishing abruptly, return to his correspondence.

When the last, as it transpired, had closed the door behind him, he swung his chair round and faced her.
"What have you been doing ?" he asked her.
"Wasting my time and money hanging about newspaper offices, listening to silly talk from old fossils," she told him.
"And having learned that respectable journalism has no use for brains, you come to me," he answered her.

"What do you think you can do ?" "Anything that can be done with a pen and ink," she told him.
"Interviewing ?" he suggested.
"I've always been considered good at asking awkward questions," she assured him.
He glanced at the clock.

"I'll give you five minutes," he said.
"Interview me." She moved to a chair beside the desk, and, opening her bag, took out a writing-block.
"What are your principles ?" she asked him.