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Harrison, Henry Sydnor, 1880-1930

"Queed"

I
cannot possibly drop my work to try to solve entirely superfluous
enigmas. Keep all this in mind--take an interest in it, will you?" he
added briskly. "Possibly I might need your help some day."
"Certainly I will. I appreciate your telling me about it, and I'd be so
glad to help you in any way that I could."
"How do you like my editorials?" he demanded abruptly.
"I'm afraid I don't understand a line of them!"
He waved his hand indulgently, like a grandfather receiving the just
tribute of his little ones. "They are for thinkers, experts," said he,
and picked up his pencil.
The agent took the hint; pushed back her chair; her glove was unbuttoned
and she slowly fastened it. In her heart was a great compassion for the
little Doctor.
"Mr. Queed, I want you to know that if I ever could be of help to you
about _anything_, I'd always think it a real pleasure. Please remember
that, won't you? Did you know I lived down this way, in the daytime?"
"Lived?"
She made a gesture toward the window, and away to the south and east.
"My office is only three blocks away, down there in the park--"
"Your office? You don't work!"
"Oh, don't I though!"
"Why, I thought you were a _lady_!"
They were so close together that she was compelled to laugh full in his
face, disclosing two rows of splendid little teeth and the tip of a rosy
little tongue.


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