"It's mine. I thought that if you didn't happen to have one here it
might be useful. It was the typewriter that the car had to go back for.
I'd forgotten it. I can take it away again. But if you like you can
either buy it or hire it from, me."

The girl could not have guessed it from his countenance, but Mr. Prohack
was thunderstruck. She was bringing forward considerations which
positively had not presented themselves to him. That she had much
initiative was clear from her conduct of the previous day. She now
disclosed a startling capacity for intrigue. Mr. Prohack, however, was
not intimidated. The experience of an official life had taught him the
value of taciturnity, and moreover a comfortable feeling of satisfaction
stole over him as he realised that once again he had a secretary under
his thumb. He seemed to be delightfully resuming the habits which
ill-health had so ruthlessly broken.

"Mary Warburton," said he at length.

"Certainly," said she. "I'll tell your chauffeur."

"The initials will correspond--in case--"

"Yes," said she. "I'd noticed that."

"We will see what your typewriting machine is capable of, and then I'll
decide about it."

"Certainly."

"Please take down some letters."