He sat down, disposing his hat by the side of her machine, and his overcoat on another chair, and drawing off his gloves. Lilian waited like a cat to pounce upon the slightest sign of familiarity and kill it; for she had understood that men-about-town regarded girl typists as their quarry and as nothing else. But there was no least lapse from deferential propriety; the clubman might have been in colloquy with his sister’s friend--and his sister listening in the next room. He pulled a manuscript from his breast-pocket, and, after a loving glance at it, offered it to her. "I’ve only just written it," said he. "And I want to take it round to the _Evening Standard_ office myself in the morning before 8.30. The editor’s an acquaintance of mine and I might get it into to-morrow afternoon’s paper. In fact, it must be to-morrow or never--because of the financial debate in the House, you see. Topical. I wonder whether you’d be good enough to do it for me." "Let me see," said Lilian professionally. "About fifteen hundred words, or hardly. Oh, yes! I will do it myself." "That’s very kind of you. Will you mind looking at the writing? Do you think you’ll be able to make it out? I was at a bit of a jolly to-night, and my hand’s never too legible." Without glancing further at the manuscript, Lilian answered: "It’s our business to make out writing." Suddenly she gave him her full smile. "I suppose it is," he said, also smiling. "Now shall I call for the copy about 8 o’clock?" "I’m afraid the office won’t be open at 8 o’clock," said Lilian. "We close at 6.30 for an hour or two. But what’s the address? Is it anywhere near here?" "6a Jermyn Street. You’ll see it all on the back of the last page." "It could be delivered--dropped into your letter-box--by 6.30 this morning, and you could take it out of the box any time after that." The idea seemed to have spontaneously presented itself to her. She forbore to say that her intention was to deliver the copy herself on her way home. "But this is most awfully obliging of you!" he exclaimed. "Not at all. You see, we specialize in urgent things.... We charge double for night-work, I ought to tell you--in fact, three shillings a thousand, with a minimum." "Of course! Of course! I quite understand that. Perhaps you’ll put the bill in the envelope." He drew forth a watch that looked like a gold half-crown. "Two o’clock. And I can count on it being in the letter-box at six-thirty." "Absolutely." "Well, all I say is, it’s very wonderful." She smiled again: "It’s just our business." He bowed gracefully in departing.