and it worked just fine, but when she tried the forms again, nothing happened.
He'd stood up and dug through his pockets—he came out with a thick, bright red fountain pen. "I forgot—Satco's legal papers are specially treated to withstand a lot of adverse conditions. It takes a special kind of ink to write on them."
She took his pen and got to work. The application was long and tedious. When she finished it, she went through the disclosure form word by word before signing it. It was also long and tedious—and done in very small print. She went through three other sets of papers, reading each—it seemed to her that the wording got stuffier and more obtuse and the print smaller with every document she worked through. And when she got to the contract, she groaned. She flipped through the pages, counting them. "There are more than twenty pages in this thing—and I don't suppose you brought a magnifying glass with you, did you?"
"No." He smiled wryly. "Home office likes to cover every eventuality in its contracts.