I brought money to a problem that had my signature on it. At the time, this seemed practical. Nessa Venn was at the public copyists' table beside the registry, checking a narrow map against a larger one. A woman opposite her held a weight on the folded corner. Neither looked up when I stopped nearby.
I waited until Nessa finished the line.
"Do you have a moment?"
Her pen stayed above the paper.
"For what?"
"Paid copying work."
She set the pen down without letting its wet point touch the map. Only then did she look at me.
"Through which office?"
"Mine."
The woman across from her moved the paper weight slightly. She didn't leave. I had expected to explain the assignment before the room became part of the answer.
"A comparison of public access drawings," I said. "The work would be paid in advance. No household service requirement."
"Would the payment carry your name?"
"It has to carry someone's."
"Then it would carry yours."
