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on telephone calls, and casually thrust his foot into doors, in order to have a glimpse of the visitors in offices. She saw one of the younger Pembertons hide behind a bookcase while his father was talking to his brother. She knew that this Pemberton and Mr. Ross were plotting to oust the brother, and that the young, alert purchasing agent was trying to undermine them both. She knew that one of the girls in the private telephone exchange was the mistress and spy of old Pemberton. All of the chiefs tried to emulate the _moyen-age_ Italians in the arts of smiling poisoning--but they did it so badly; they were as fussily ineffectual as a group of school-boys who hate their teacher. Not
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and vast grim power did they achieve, but merely a constant current of worried insecurity, and they all tended to prove Mrs. Lawrence's assertion that the office-world is a method of giving the largest possible number of people the largest possible amount of nervous discomfort, to the end of producing the largest possible quantity of totally useless articles.... The struggle extended from the chiefs to the clerks; they who tramped up and down a corridor, waiting till a chief was alone, glaring at others who were also manoeuvering to see him; they who studied the lightest remark of any chief and rushed to allies with the problem of,
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Now, what did he mean by that, do you think? ... A thousand questions of making an impression on the overlords, and of
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House Policy