Paul Sartines, was in need
of a secretary. The post was not well paid, but it was permanent. My
uncle insist that I take it. What choice? I took it. It is the post
which I still 'old.'
He ordered another liqueur brandy and gulped it down.
'The name is familiar to you, monsieur? You 'ave 'eard of M. Sartines?'
'I don't think I have. Who is he?'
'He is a man of letters, a _savant_. For five years he has been
occupied upon a great work. It is with that that I assist him by
collecting facts for 'is use. I 'ave spent this afternoon in the
British Museum collecting facts. Tomorrow I go again. And the next day.
And again after that. The book will occupy yet another ten years before
it is completed. It is his great work.'
'It sounds as if it was,' I said. 'What's it about?'
He signalled to the waiter.
'_Garcon_, one other liqueur brandy. The book, monsieur, is a
'_Istory of the Cat in Ancient Egypt._'
RUTH IN EXILE
The clock struck five--briskly, as if time were money. Ruth Warden got
up from her desk and, having put on her hat, emerged into the outer
office where M. Gandinot received visitors. M. Gandinot, the ugliest
man in Roville-sur-Mer, presided over the local _mont-de-piete_,
and Ruth served him, from ten to five, as a sort of secretary-clerk.
Her duties, if monotonous, were simple.
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