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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Gentleman from Indiana"

"I could never have thought of that,
could you, Mr. Parker?"
"And now," she continued, "I think that when I've gone over what I've
written and beat it into better shape I shall be ready for something to
eat. Isn't it almost time for luncheon?"
This simple, and surely natural, inquiry had a singular, devastating
effect upon her hearers. They looked upon each other with fallen jaws and
complete stupefaction. The old man began to grow pale, and Parker glared
about him with a wild eye. Fortunately, the editor was too busy at her
work to notice their agitation; she applied herself to making alterations
here and there, sometimes frowningly crossing out whole lines and even
paragraphs, sometimes smiling and beaming at the writing; and, as she bent
earnestly over the paper, against the darkness of the rainy day, the
glamour about her fair hair was like a light in the room. To the minds of
her two companions, this lustre was a gentle but unbearable accusation;
and each dreaded the moment when her Work should be finished, with a great
dread. There was a small "store-room" adjoining the office, and presently
Mr. Parker, sweating at the brow, walked in there. The old man gave him a
look of despairing reproach, but in a moment the foreman's voice was
heard: "Oh, Mr. Fisbee, can you step here a second?"
"Yes, indeed!" was Fisbee's reply; and he fled guiltily into the "store-
room," and Parker closed the door.


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