Jenny collected her weekly salary before leaving work. Back in the dorm, she counted it. Her pay this week was three greenbacks, a full thirty dollars.
This was because of the performance bonus from having her name on Sean's article.
However, the credit was for a single piece, not a fixed column, so the bonus was only this once. It would be gone next week.
Jenny was still happy to double her savings. She hid the money in the safest place up high, then quickly grabbed her bag and went downstairs.
Taking a crowded and smelly public carriage, Jenny hurried toward Broadway.
Her destination was a third-rate club called Letter K, tucked away in a corner of Broadway.
Leaving the familiar streets and taking public transit alone, Jenny dressed very plainly.
She wore a drab, slightly old dark-colored ladies' suit, a scarf covering the lower half of her face, and a hard bonnet covering the upper half. This saved a pretty woman a lot of trouble.
After getting off, Jenny passed through bustling Broadway and, following the address Sean gave her, reached the back entrance of Club K. It was a lively narrow alley, contrasting with the bleak night sky above.
On both sides of the alley were back entrances to shops and residential buildings. Many restaurants had their back doors open.
Employees stood in the alley slacking off and wiping sweat. Gaslight leaked from the windows and doors, illuminating the alley. The air was filled with the hustle and bustle of cooking and the smell of various foods.
Jenny carried her heavy leather bag, walked straight ahead without looking sideways, weaving through them. She uncovered her hat and scarf along the way, finally stepped up to the door, and knocked on the club's back door.
The man who opened the door wore a white chef's uniform, sweating even in winter. He wiped his hands on his apron and looked at Jenny with curiosity.
This young woman dressed simply and plainly, with a calm demeanor, measuring him unhurriedly. Her temperament stood out from those around her.
Tori immediately knew she was the clerk from Dawling.
"Are you Miss Jones?"
Before Jenny could speak, he eagerly made way for her.
"Come in, come in. I'm James Tori."
Jenny nodded and entered the cramped, crowded kitchen of the club.
Tori had worked here since childhood, for many years. He was now the head chef for main courses, ordering two apprentices to bring tea and snacks for Jenny.
"Just tea, please," Jenny said to them.
Then she was led to a utility room next to the dining area, used by staff.
The utility room had been cleaned, with a table and chairs set up, covered with a tablecloth, as if specially prepared for her.
Sitting there, she could look diagonally into the main hall and see everything.
The club was single-story, not membership-based; anyone could come for entertainment. Today, dancers were performing on the central stage, looking quite vulgar.
Not to mention the alcohol, food, card games, and gambling tables set up.
Many people gathered around a table, heatedly discussing newspaper news, as if about to give a tavern speech.
Shady-looking young men sat at the bar with women, hugging and kissing them.
Jenny was put off by such a youthful atmosphere. She averted her gaze and pulled a stack of neat, white manuscript paper from her bag.
Tori soon sat down across from her. He had wiped the sweat from his forehead, changed into a clean chef's apron, and looked embarrassed by the surroundings.
"Sorry, it's really noisy here. But I live far away, so it's more convenient to find me here."
"It's fine, as long as we can get things done."
Jenny remained calm, handed him the neat stack of papers, and took out ink and paper.
Tori took the copy. It was hard to imagine that the messy pile of manuscripts Sean had taken from his house had become such a neat little stack.
Flipping through, each chapter had been meticulously proofread and formatted, clearly requiring a lot of effort.
He felt greatly honored and quickly thanked Jenny.
"This is what I should do. You should look at the notes I attached to each story. They are just my personal suggestions for revision. But you are the author. It should be based on your wishes. If you think they're unnecessary, you don't have to adopt them."
Jenny made it clear in advance.
Tori pulled out the notes and read through them one by one.
He knew many editors liked to arbitrarily change authors' work to show off, but this clerk clearly wasn't that type. She just wanted the stories to be more readable.
Given her precedent of helping Sean, Tori trusted her completely.
"Yes, these revisions are indeed necessary. They'll make it more polished, like... like garnishing a plate with rosemary."
Tori smiled, then hesitated.
"But... I really can't spare the time to do this revision work right now."
Jenny saw his predicament. Even with such a great opportunity, Tori didn't dare abandon his job and dive into writing, because he had to support his family and care for a patient.
She didn't bring up his awkward situation, only discussing work to avoid embarrassing him.
"That's fine. If you allow, I can do all the revision work for you. I'm more efficient."
"After I finish the revisions, I'll send you the revised version for your review."
"Although I can't guarantee the editor will like them, I can guarantee they'll end up on the editor's desk."
"That's more than enough. I know how it works. Thousands of unknown small authors are out there, and the threshold of Dawling Building has been worn down. So many people would die for this opportunity. Editors handle so many works every day. How could I dare expect to succeed for sure?"