Like many stout people, he moved noiselessly, and quickly enough when the occasion demanded haste.
He wrote three letters in a very few minutes, and, when they were addressed, he tapped on the table with the end of his pen-holder, which brought, in the twinkling of an eye, that clerk whose business it was to abandon his books when called.
"I shall not go out to luncheon until I have the written receipt for each one of those letters," said the banker, knowing that until he went out to luncheon his six clerks must needs go hungry.

"Not an answer," he explained, "but a receipt in the addressee's writing." And while the clerk hurried from the room and down the stone stairs at a break-neck speed, Turner sank back into his chair, with lustreless eyes fixed on space.
"No one can wait," he was in the habit of saying, "better than I can.".