It'll be smudged somewhat,
but I don't believe there is a single word that can't be made out. It is
lucky it didn't prolong its bath, though, isn't it? All we need to do,
now, is to put it in the sun to dry for a few minutes."
Selecting a sunny spot near by, she arranged the volume against a stone
and deftly separated the pages so that the air could circulate more
freely between them; and one would have said, from her manner of ready
assurance, that she had learned from long experience exactly how to dry
a manuscript that had been thrown in the river and rescued just in the
nick of time. That was Betty Jo's way. She always did everything without
hesitation,--just as though she had spent the twenty-three years of her
life doing exactly that particular thing.
Kneeling over the manuscript, and gently moving the wet sheets, she
said, without looking up: "Do you always bath your manuscripts like this
before you turn them over to your stenographer to type, Mr. Burns?"
In spite of his troubled state of mind, Brian smiled.
The clear, matter-of-fact voice went on, while the competent hands
moved the drying pages. "You see, I never worked for an author before. I
suspect I have a lot to learn."
She looked up at him with a Betty Jo smile that went straight to his
heart, as Betty Jo's smiles had a curious way of doing.
"I hope you will be very patient with me, Mr.
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