"I have just finished," she continued, "the most important piece of
work they have trusted me with yet, and I have been awfully lucky.
I have been to interview a millionaire!"
"A man?"
She nodded. "Of course!"
"It isn't fit work for you," he exclaimed hastily.
"You will forgive me if I consider myself the best judge of that,"
she answered coldly. "I am a journalist, and so long as it is
honest work my sex doesn't count. If every one whom I have to see
is as courteous to me as Mr. Trent has been, I shall consider myself
very lucky indeed."
"As who?" he cried.
She looked up at him in surprise. They were at the corner of the
Strand, but as though in utter forgetfulness of their whereabouts,
he had suddenly stopped short and gripped her tightly by the arm.
She shook herself free with a little gesture of annoyance.
"Whatever is the matter with you, Cecil? Don't gape at me like
that, and come along at once, unless you want to be left behind.
Yes, we are very short-handed and the chief let me go down to see
Mr. Trent. He didn't expect for a moment that I should get him
to talk to me, but I did, and he let me sketch the house. I am
awfully pleased with myself I can tell you."
The young man walked by her side for a moment in silence.
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