That evening, as the lights went out in the tiny travel agency at Mason"s Yard, Miss Archer, clutching a stack of old files, paused for a moment at the top of the stairs to look through the doorway into the Isherwood gallery. sparkling glass. Sitting behind the counter was Elena, Mr. Isherwood"s beautiful Italian secretary. She looked up from the computer screen and sent Miss Archer a goodbye kiss, then looked down to continue working.
Miss Archer smiled sadly and walked down the stairs. There were no tears in her eyes. She cried alone in a place where no one could see her, just like she always had to do most things alone. There was also no hesitation in her footsteps. For twenty-seven years, she came to this office five mornings a week. Saturday mornings too, if the office needs someone
