There was in the office a typist named Janie Prentiss, and she was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen. I had been placed at a desk in the middle of the office and there carried out duties not too different than those in the trailer factory office, collecting mail and lunch orders, numbering insurance proposals and writing them in a book, sending out reminder notices when policies fell due or cover notes expired. Janie Prentiss sat in front of me, facing me, three desks forward and one to the right. I found it impossible to contemplate anything but her, but fortunately my work was so menial that it could be done without the slightest concentration.