Her joy became intense, and shot glinting from her eyes as she put on her gloves.

Her life became grand to her.

She knew she was known in the town as 'the girl who could write shorthand.' Her situation was not ordinary; it was unique.

Again, the irregularity of the hours, and the fact that the work never commenced till the afternoon, seemed to her romantic and beautiful.

Here she was, at nine o'clock, alone with George Cannon on the second floor of the house! And who, gazing from the Square at the lighted window, would guess that she and he were there alone?
All the activities of newspaper production were poetized by her fervour.
The _Chronicle_ was not a poor little weekly sheet, struggling into existence anyhow, at haphazard, dependent on other newspapers for all except purely local items of news.