 What was Orison’s excuse to visit the upper floors?
Orison switched off her microphone at noon, marked her place in the book and took the elevator down to the ground floor. As though they were members of a ballet-troupe, these gentlemen whipped off their hats with a single motion as Orison stepped aboard the elevator. Orison nodded bemused acknowledgment of their gesture, and got off in the lobby vowing never to put a penny into this curiousest of banks. Girls from the ground-floor offices of Taft Bank chattered together, eyed Orison with the coolness due so attractive a competitor, and favored her with no gambit to enter their conversations. Orison sighed, finished her tuna salad on whole-wheat, then went back upstairs to her lonely desk and her microphone. Orison slipped between the sheets at eleven-thirty.
 To deliver a message from Mr. Wanji
 To deliver a message from Mr. Wanji  To see what the Earmuffs were doing  To feed the Microfabridae  To complain about Auga Vingt