_New York, July 7th._
The number on Fifth avenue given me was not a great distance from
Dunsany's and I was there by 5:15 this afternoon. It is one of the
older office buildings and is filled with the most respectable tenants,
mostly firms engaged in some form of religious business: publishers,
mission boards, church supplies, etc. It is amusing to think of Lorina
in such company.
Lorina's office, of course, was no whit less respectable in appearance
than a hundred others in the building. There was a respectable elderly
stenographer, a subdued office boy, and Lorina herself playing her part
of the saleswoman of religious literature in a starched shirt waist.
She waved me to a seat beside her desk, and started right in to sell me
a consignment of tracts. I confess I was a bit dazed by the scene.
At five-thirty the respectable stenographer and the subdued office-boy
asked her humbly if she desired them any further, and upon receiving a
negative departed.
When the door closed behind them Lorina yawned, stretched, and swore
softly--to take the religious taste out of her mouth, I suppose. I
laughed, but she didn't like it. I have discovered that laughter makes
these people uneasy.
"Cut it out!" she said frowning.