“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
unconvincing phrase the regard in which these poor automatic machines held the autocrat who had lived by the sweat of their brows and the scratching of their quills, the man who came at ten forty-five and smoked a cigar in the inside office with a silk hat on the back of his head, the man who did about one full day’s work each week while they slaved from eight until six, except on bank holidays. Yes, now she recalled him! He was the assistant cashier, who had come disjointedly forward at the wedding reception and in high-water trousers and weird white tie had made the "few remarks." Bennett saw that she recognized him and his face changed color. Coincidentally Lily thought she saw a chance to divert the Captain’s attention in a new direction, and as she squeezed his arm she bowed quickly to the man before her.
“How do you do?” she said in cordial tones. “It ’s a long time since we ’ve met, Mr.—”
Bennett looked at her helplessly with an expression of agonized entreaty.
“It ’s Mrs. Trevelyan,—is n’t it?” he stammered.
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