They have not starved.
Sociologically, it's interesting. Make Colonel Cowles tell you about it
some time."
"He has told me about it. In fact he tells me constantly. And this work
that you do," he said, not unkindly and not without interest, "what is
it? Are you a teacher, perhaps, a ... no!--You speak of an office. You
are a clerk, doubtless, a bookkeeper, a stenographer, an office girl?"
She nodded with exaggerated gravity. "You have guessed my secret. I am a
clerk, bookkeeper, stenographer, and office girl. My official title, of
course, is a little more frilly, but you describe--"
"Well? What is it?"
"They call it Assistant Secretary of the State Department of Charities."
He looked astonished; she had no idea his face could take on so much
expression.
"You! _You_! Why, how on earth did you get such a position?"
"Pull," said Sharlee.
Their eyes met, and she laughed him down.
"Who is the real Secretary to whom you are assistant?"
"The nicest man in the world. Mr. Dayne--Rev. George Dayne."
"A parson! Does he know anything about his subject? Is he an expert?--a
trained relief worker? Does he know Willoughby? And Smathers? And
Conant?"
"Knows them by heart.
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