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18 "Can you take shorthand, Miss Belle?" he inquired.

Ada jumped and flushed. She hadn't acquired office composure yet. "Why, I think so," she stammered. "I might."

"Well, try it. Miss Foster has just gone for the day—headache. Mr. Belden unexpectedly returned, and must get off two or three letters to-night. He's in his office."

Before Ada could gather her distracted wits together Mr. Roper had turned, and was half-way across the room. What had she better do?

"He's waiting for you, Miss Belle," Mr. Roper called from his desk by the window.

Ada felt herself rising. She saw her hand reach out and take her pad and pencil. She observed herself approach her father's private office, watched her crooked forefinger knocking on the big black letters of her father's name. She heard his staccato "Come in," followed by the squeak of the unoiled hinges, as she pushed open the door and entered.

Her father was seated at the big, flat-topped mahogany desk in the center of the room, and there was a man in an arm-chair opposite. As Marcus's eyes fell upon Ada he rose, hastily shoving back his office chair. He did not observe that the girl was not in street costume.