"There is the place we want," said the investigator, pointing at an
illuminated sign which hung out over the sidewalk some little distance
away.
When they reached the place, they found it was rather a large building
of the modern type; pushing open the swinging doors and making their
way through a brilliantly lighted passage, they found themselves in
an equally brilliant office.
Here they saw a dozen or more men seated in tilted chairs; all wore
their hats and for the most part smoked cigars. Behind a polished
counter on which rested a nickeled cash register and a huge book,
stood a white-haired man with a smooth Irish face and a pair of gold
eyeglasses hanging by a black cord. The air was heavy with
disputation; long-tailed words boomed sonorously; red-faced and
earnest, one of the occupants of the chairs assailed the man behind
the counter; with soft, sweeping, eloquent gestures the latter
defended himself.
"And what," demanded he, placing his hands upon the shining top of the
counter and shoving his head forward inquiringly, "is all this that we
do be hearing about your suffragette? Who is she? What is she? The
newspapers are filled to the top with her, but sorra the sight of her
did I ever see.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237