Miscast for Murder [antikvár]

Chapter One B, 'ess picked a manuscript from her desk and began to read. The dreamy contentment of her face was not due to the manuscript's quahty. Conversely, she did not owe her less dian profound concentration to its shortcomings, nor to the open window through which came the unseasonably warm advances of the October day. Mother's recent letters were responsible. They had not so much as touched upon the usual theme of the dangers that threatened a young girl in a big city. They had contained neither advice, reproaches, nor hints as to Aunt Alma's inadequacy in the role of guardian. They had been fuU of Mother's new husband, her new surroundings. Bess crossed her fingers. Her world had at last assumed a pleasant and durable pattern. Employed by the agency to assist the head of the fiction department, she had a little office all to herself, along with the services of a secretary. And while she was not yet entrusted with the work of really important writers, she regarded every manuscript that came to her as a potential discovery, an approach which made her job not only satisfactory but exciting. Just yesterday the owner of the agency had praised one of her reports and hinted at future promotion. But far more important than her own success was Mother's well-being. Mother had settled down under the protection of James Haskell, a man so dull that by law of compensation it was only logical to suppose him good. The qualities in him that had channed Mother were obscure to Bess, and no mat-