This is really 1959. The dull and cute female protagonist applied for a typist because she did not want to live in the "vulgar" world arranged by her father. The repressed male protagonist found her fingers light and innocent and wanted to train her to become a world champion in typing. On the surface, he is acrimonious to the heroine, but behind his back he pays true love. The female protagonist grows step by step in the carved plot, and when he won the French championship, the male protagonist betrayed bizarrely. In the end, of course, I understand that this is the male protagonist's good intentions. Cookie-cutter stories, romantic love. The Americans are the first in technology, and the French are the first in love.
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