She made her way to the side of the first disengaged typist, and sitting in an easy-chair gave down her copy, here and there adding a little but leaving it mainly in the rough.
She knew whose hand, with a few vigorous touches would bring the whole thing into the form which the readers of the "Hour", delighted in, and she was quite content to have it so.

The work was interesting and more than an hour had passed before she rose and put on her gloves.
"I am coming back at eight," she said, "but the proofs are to go in to Mr.Darrel! Nothing come in for me, I suppose ?" The girl shook her head, so Ernestine walked out into the street.

Then she remembered Cecil Davenant and his strange manner--the story which he was even now waiting to tell her.

She looked at her watch and after a moment's hesitation called a hansom.
81, Culpole Street, she told him.

"This is a little extravagant," she said to herself as the man wheeled his horse round, "but to-day I think that I have earned it.".