At her request I had continued my writing when she came in.

I was finishing off a column of a bloodthirsty article for the _Howler_; it probably would come near enough to the mark, for in India you may print a leader anywhere within a month of its being written, and if it was hot enough to begin with, it will still answer the purpose.
Journalism is not so rapid in its requirements as in New York, but, on the other hand, it is more lucrative.
"Mr.Griggs, are you _very_ busy ?" "Oh dear, no--nothing to speak of," I went on writing--the unprecedented--folly--the--blatant--charlatanism---- "Mr.Griggs, do you understand these things ?" -- --Lord Beaconsfield's--"I think so, Miss Westonhaugh"-- Afghan policy----There, I thought, I think that would rouse Mr.Currie Ghyrkins, if he ever saw it, which I trust he never will.

I had done, and I folded the numbered sheets in an oblong bundle.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Westonhaugh; I was just finishing a sentence.

I am quite at your service." "Oh no! I see you are too busy." "Not in the least, I assure you.

Is it that tangled skein?
Let me help you." "Oh thank you.