Miss Farris was friendly, but in a way that Declan found frightening — when wealthy women were friendly, he was prone to either never knowing what to say, or to falling half in love with them and spending a season pining. (Often the latter was paired with the former.) At least the door was ajar; nothing scandalous ever happened when the door was ajar.

Declan took the pages out of his bag. "Where does he like them set?" he asked, because things were neat but busy in here, and he expected that Mr. Farris was the sort of man who had very specific thoughts on where his proof corrections ought to be placed.