\"Where have you been, young lady?\" Mike crooned, a large grin on his fat Irish face. But ——” A look checked him. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. “I don’t think our engagement can go on,” she plunged, and felt exactly that loss of breath that comes with a dive into icy water. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another.
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