She knew, vaguely, that hands
caught these bundles halfway, and redirected them toward the
proper channel, where they were assembled and made ready for
shipping or mailing. She turned to a stock boy.
"Where does this empty?" she asked.
"Floor below," said the boy, "on the platform."
Fanny walked down a flight of iron stairs, and around to
face the spiral chute again. In front of the chute, and
connected with it by a great metal lip, was a platform
perhaps twelve feet above the floor and looking very much
like the pilot's deck of a ship. A little flight of steps
led up to it--very steep steps, that trembled a little under
a repetition of shocks that came from above. Fanny climbed
them warily, gained the top, and found herself standing next
to the girl whose face had gleamed out at her from among
those thousands in the crowd pouring out of the plant.
The girl glanced up at Fanny for a second--no, for the
fraction of a second. Her job was the kind that permitted
no more than that. Fanny watched her for one breathless
moment.
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