Miss BRUSS, the perfect secretary, received Nona Manford at the door of her mother’s boudoir (‘the office, ‘ Mrs. Manford’s children called it) with a gesture of the kindliest denial.
‘She wants to, you know, dear—your mother always wants to see you, ‘ pleaded Maisie Bruss, in a voice which seemed to be thinned and sharpened by continuous telephoning. Miss Bruss, attached to Mrs. Manford’s service since shortly after the latter’s second marriage, had known Nona from her childhood, and was privileged, even now that she was ‘out, ‘ to treat her with a certain benevolent familiarity—benevolence being the note of the Manford household.
‘But look at her list—just for this morning!’ the secretary continued, handing over a tall morocco-framed tablet, on which was inscribed, in the colourless secretarial hand: ‘7.30 Mental uplift. 7.45 Breakfast. 8. Psycho-analysis. 8.15 See cook. 8.30 Silent Meditation. 8.45 Facial massage. 9. Man with Persian miniatures. 9.15 Correspondence. 9.30 Manicure. 9.45 Eurythmic exercises. 10. Hair waved. 10.15 Sit for bust. 10.30 Receive Mothers’ Day deputation. 11. Dancing lesson. 11.30 Birth Control committee at Mrs.——’
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