Yes, very moving to that Rosalie in her youth and warmth. She had actually to touch her nose (high up, between her eyes) with her handkerchief and she said, “Oh, Mr. Simcox.... Yes, and then what?”
“Then what? Ah! ‘Then what’ is this.” They were seated in Mr. Simcox’s great office on the ground floor. The office of a man of many affairs. A very large writing table furnished with every conceivable facility for writing, not only note papers and envelopes racked up in half a dozen sizes, but sealing waxes in several hues, labels, string, “In” basket, “Out” basket, “Pending Decision” basket, all sorts of pens, all sorts of pencils, wafers, clips, scales, letter weights, rulers--the table obviously of a man to whom correspondence was a devotional, an engrossing, an exact art, and an art practised on an expansive, an impressive, and a lordly scale. There were also in the office a very large plain table on which were spread newspapers, a basket containing clippings from newspapers, an immense blue chalk for marking newspapers and a very long, also a very short, pair of scissors for cutting out clippings from newspapers. A range of filing cabinets stood against one wall; a library of directories and catalogues occupied shelves against another wall.
“‘Then what’ is this,” said Mr. Simcox, indicating these impressive appointments of the room with a wave of his hand. “You ask me ‘then what?’ ‘Then what’ is all this. ‘Then what’ has grown now to be you. I’ll tell you.”
It was this--the oddest, most eccentric notion (not that Rosalie it thought so). Mr. Simcox, cut off from letters, had determined that he must get letters. He would get letters. If the postman would not come of himself (so to speak) then he must be forced to come. And Mr. Simcox set about forcing him to come by answering advertisements. Not employment advertisements; no; the advertisements to which Mr. Simcox re-plied were the advertisements that offered to send you something for nothing--that implored you to permit them to send you something for nothing. They are common objects of the periodical press. Every paper is stuffed with them. “Write for free samples.” “Catalogues.” “Trial packet sent post free on application.” “Write for our beautifully illustrated art brochure.” “Descriptive booklet by return.” “Write for full particulars.” “Free sample bottle sufficient for seven days’ trial.” “Approval gladly. Postpaid.” “Plans and particulars of the sole agents.” “Superbly printed art volume on receipt of postcard.”