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love_haveto_away
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WANTED
“Wanted” ran a small ad in The Times. “Assistant for the famous cookery writer. Three-month contract - £400.” The ad was answered by a young woman, recently widowed and with a small baby, desperate for a work of any kind. The hours were long and £400 seemed very little for three months’ of employment. But she was absolutely desperate and she got the job. It proved harder than she had been anticipated, as the famous writer proved as tyrannical, ungrateful adns a slave driver. The first week of helping to him was almost more than the young woman felt she could stand. Only did the thought of the bread that she was putting in her baby’s mouth prevented her leaving from the job. At the end of the first week, she was given a lift at home by the cookery writer’s secretary. On the way she confided how desperately she had needed the job and admitted just how welcome even the miserable £400 was mentioned in the advertisement would be. The secretary gave her such an odd look that the young woman asked what it the matter was. “I don’t think you quite understand,” answered the secretary. “It’s you who has to pay for him £400.” At first the young woman was silent. She was temporarily lost for some words, but then she began to laugh, and she laughed until the tears poured down her cheeks
WANTED
“Wanted” ran a small ad in The Times. “Assistant for the famous cookery writer. Three-month contract - £400.” The ad was answered by a young woman, recently widowed and with a small baby, desperate for a work of any kind. The hours were long and £400 seemed very little for three months’ of employment. But she was absolutely desperate and she got the job. It proved harder than she had been anticipated, as the famous writer proved as tyrannical, ungrateful adns a slave driver. The first week of helping to him was almost more than the young woman felt she could stand. Only did the thought of the bread that she was putting in her baby’s mouth prevented her leaving from the job. At the end of the first week, she was given a lift at home by the cookery writer’s secretary. On the way she confided how desperately she had needed the job and admitted just how welcome even the miserable £400 was mentioned in the advertisement would be. The secretary gave her such an odd look that the young woman asked what it the matter was. “I don’t think you quite understand,” answered the secretary. “It’s you who has to pay for him £400.” At first the young woman was silent. She was temporarily lost for some words, but then she began to laugh, and she laughed until the tears poured down her cheeks