Roberta sat before that "typer" as if she were accustomed to do
nothing else for her living, her eyes upon the keys, her profile
silhouetted against the window beside her.
As far as the mechanical part of the labour was concerned, Richard had
never seen a task get under way more promptly nor proceed with greater
or smoother dispatch. As he sat beside his own window he nearly faced
the pair at the other window. Try as he would he could not keep his mind
upon his work. It was a situation unique in his experience. That he,
Richard Kendrick, should be employed in serious work in the same room
with the niece of a prosperous and distinguished gentleman, a girl who
had not hesitated to learn a trade in which she had become proficient,
and that the three of them should spend the morning in this room
together, taking no notice of each other beyond that made necessary by
the task in hand--it was enough to make him burst out laughing. At the
same time he felt a genuine satisfaction in the situation. If he could
but work in the same room with her every day, though she should
vouchsafe him no word, how far from drudgery would the labour be then
removed!
He managed to keep up at least the appearance of being closely engaged,
turning the leaves of books, making notes, arising to consult other
books upon the shelves.
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