THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
"Great! I can tell a plumber from a mason at a glance. I can tell a book agent from a charity-worker by the smile alone."
"Into what class do you put us?" asked Doris, giving the globe a final spin as she turned away.
"Angels from heaven!"
"We'll certainly fly if you talk like that. And so this is the place where that funny little agent of yours used to work? What has become of him?"
"He was getting along in years and concluded to retire," said Armitage, reaching for his pipe and putting it into a drawer mechanically and wondering all the rest of the day what he had done with it.
Betty stared at her hands because she was afraid to trust her eyes.
"He was very quaint," said Doris, innocent of the bomb fuse she had lighted. "Can you write on the typewriter?"
"I can pick out Yankee Doodle, but that's about all. It's twelve," he said, briskly. The sight of Doris in this office rather embarrassed him. "Any place in mind for lunch?"
"Yes. We want to go where there's
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