She glanced toward it involuntarily and wondered if she had made up her
face correctly. Then, with a definite effort she forced herself to
act--and she had never felt that the gestures of her body were so banal,
so awkward, so bereft of grace or distinction. She strolled around the
office, picking up articles here and there and looking at them inanely.
Then she scrutinized the ceiling, the floor, and thoroughly inspected an
inconsequential lead pencil on the desk. Finally, because she could
think of nothing else to do, and less than nothing to express, she
forced a smile.
"All right. Now the phone rings. Ting-a-ling-a-ling! Hesitate, and then
answer it."
She hesitated--and then, too quickly, she thought, picked up the
receiver.
"Hello."
Her voice was hollow and unreal. The words rang in the empty set like
the ineffectualities of a ghost. The absurdities of their requirements
appalled her--Did they expect that on an instant's notice she could put
herself in the place of this preposterous and unexplained character?
"... No ... no.... Not yet! Now listen: 'John Sumner has just been
knocked over by an automobile and instantly killed!'"
Gloria let her baby mouth drop slowly open.
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