The girl next door has been working as Maxwell's stenographer for the past one year. What the girl looks like can be said in a roundabout way, and anyway, at least not the kind of picture that comes to mind when you think of a personal stenographer. There was no such thing as a joke in him. He was never seen wearing even a gachi saru chen ki bracelet or a locket for Niden. point
It is his opinion that he is not supposed to get an invitation from anyone to go out for lunch together. But the gray color dress she was wearing suited her well. On the head is a turban hat, with the most golden winged macaws painted on it. This morning she looked both tender and radiant at the same time. The two eyes are as bright as a dream. Even her cheekbones are a bit of a jam color, today it seemed to be more colorful with joy.
Peacher noticed with some curiosity that something had changed in the girl this morning. Today, instead of going straight to his own sitting room in the next room, he stayed a little longer in the outer office. At this time, he seems a little restless. Once he walked over to Maxwell's table. And when he stood there, he stood so close that the presence caught Maxwell's eyes. On the other hand, after sitting in his chair, the person is no longer a person of flesh and blood; Rather, it is as if the key to the whole dough becomes a machine. Whose name was just New York Stockbroker.
say yes Do you want to say something? Maxwell asked sharply. The table in front of him was already littered with pages of open letters, white as a snow-covered wilderness. Maxwell's gray eyes looked very sharp as he looked at the girl. There is quite a sense of irritation in the tone of the voice.
no nothing The stenographer turned to answer with a slight smile.
Then turn to the private secretary and say did Mr. Peacher Maxwell say anything to you yesterday about bringing in a new stenographer?
Yes, he said, replied Peacher. He was saying to join another person, I also informed the employment agency yesterday afternoon that they should send some of them here this morning. However
Meanwhile, it was almost 10 o'clock, so far I have not seen any pictures like hand on head or pineapple chewing gum chewing party.
The girl says that's enough then I will continue to work as usual until another person arrives. That's why the girl went to her own desk, hanging the black hat with green and golden wings like a place.
It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't seen it with their own eyes what happens to a stockbroker in Manhattan at busy times. Poets often sing of life's dull times, but brokers' time is not only dull, every moment, every moment is like a continuous bell.
It was a busy day for Harvey Maxwell. A strip of paper rattled out of the telegraph machine, and the telephone rang after a while on the desk. There is no mole place to step inside the office anymore, now all you can look at is people and people. People are all leaning over the railings calling out to him in unison. Some of their voices are happy, some are sad and some may be blushing and screaming. The messenger boys, like corks in a badminton game, go this way and the next moment run out. The clerks are all tossing and turning like sailors in a stormy ship. Even the wooden-faced peach, his face has gradually become like a cartoon character.
And stock exchange by that time hurricanes, landslides, blizzards, avalanches, volcanoes have all started. And a smaller version of all that can be seen inside the broker's office. Maxwell goes about his business with the chair propped up against the wall, dancing all over the office like full-on toe danters. He telegraphs once to the telephone, then back to the desk, and rushes to the door in the manner of Harlequins.
In spite of all this busyness, the broker noticed that a young woman with golden hair entered his ajhis. Peacher is explaining everything to him again.
Peacher says, the lady is coming with information from the employment agency, they have sent us here to work as stenographers.
Hearing this, Maxwell turned on his heels. He had two hands full of paper and telegraph tape.
What do you say? Maxwell asked with a frown.
As a stenographer, you told me tomorrow to inform them and get a new one fixed for the place by morning?
Peecher tried to explain.
Peacher, do you have a headache these days or not? I will go to give you such an order again in sorrow? Miss Leslie has done her job very well over the past year. So the place will be his for as long as he wants.
Sorry, no job available here ma'am. And you peacher, obey that agency soon. Remember that from now on I will not see any of these samples in my office.
The girl left the office very angry. Pitcher points out to the accountant gentleman that investors tend to become aggressive as they get older. At one point, dozens of shares were seen rolling on the ground. In which Maxwell's customers are pouring money. Buy and sell orders are coming and going. As the sparrows chirp in and out of the house throughout the day. The condition of some of the shares that he had bought was going very badly and the man kept making the right decisions without stopping anywhere like a powerful machine. Stocks and bonds, loans and mortgages, margins and securities, that is, where the whole world is tied up as money, it is impossible to find any human subject or any trace of the natural world.
As the time moves towards noon, the pressure decreases.
At one point Maxwell stood by his desk with a hand full of rush telegrams and memoranda, a pen in his right ear, a tuft of hair hanging haphazardly over his forehead. His window was open. Then a warm spring breeze wafted through the window, in fact a strange fragrance - like some lost smell, a sweet smell that made the broker stop for a moment because this particular smell was coming from Miss Leslie. It's his own scent, his own body odor.
It was this smell that brought him full circle. The world of money is lost in a single moment between a particular point. He is sitting in the next room, just twenty feet away.
What is on the forehead, I will do it now; Maxwell soliloquizes almost word for word. I will ask him now. I wonder why I didn't do it earlier.
He entered the inner office with a handshake, thinking that he would make up for the long distance by doing this haste. He stood leaning a little on the stenographer's table. The girl looked at him with a sweet smile. His forehead had a light reddish tint, his eyes filled with sincerity. Maxwell propped his elbows on his desk. There is still a pile of paper in his paw, and the pen on his ear.
"Miss Leslie, I don't have a second to waste, I have something to say to you," he began hurriedly. will you be my wife Know that I have never had time to love you like ten other boys. But really, I love you. Answer quickly. Those you can't hear, the sales team has come again.
What are you saying? Surprised the girl says. As he spoke, he stood up from his chair and looked at Maxwell with Golla Golla eyes.
You do not understand what I am saying? Maxwell said in a shaky voice. I want you to marry me. I love you Miss Leslie. I wanted to tell you the words and that's why I saw a little less pressure, you can say that I took this time by stealing. Look, the phone has already started ringing. Ah peach! Don't ask them to wait a minute. What Leslie, do not say, do not marry me?
The appearance of the stenographer gradually became unusual. At first he seems to be filled with joy, the next moment tears start to flow from his cheeks. In between, he reached out a hand and grabbed the broker's neck.
I understand now. He said in a soft voice. This business takes everything out of your head for a while. I was scared at first. Don't you remember Harvey? Yesterday at eight o'clock we went to that church in Kona and got married
0 মন্তব্যসমূহ