What a glorious, appealing, sensuous thing a crown of hair--but just
then Mr. Poopendyke came to my window.

"May I interrupt you for a moment, Mr. Smart?" he inquired, as he
squinted at me through his ugly bone-rimmed glasses.

"Come here, Poopendyke," I commanded in low, excited tones. He
hesitated. "You won't fall off," I said sharply.

Although the window is at least nine feet high, Poopendyke stooped as
he came through. He always does it, no matter how tall the door. It
is a life-long habit with him. Have I mentioned that my worthy secretary
is six feet four, and as thin as a reed? I remember speaking of his
knees. He is also a bachelor.

"It is a dreadful distance down there," he murmured, flattening himself
against the wall and closing his eyes.

A pair of slim white hands at that instant indolently readjusted the
thick mass of hair and quite as casually disappeared. I failed to hear
Mr. Poopendyke's remark.

"I think, sir," he proceeded, "it would be a very good idea to get
some of our correspondence off our hands. A great deal of it has
accumulated in the past few weeks. I wish to say that I am quite ready
to attend to it whenever--"

"Time enough for letters," said I, still staring.

"We ought to clean them all up before we begin on the romance, sir.