The great financier looks at his watch suddenly. "By Jove!" he says. "By Jove!" He has to go. He is sorry the interview was a failure. But a rotten day for thinking. Back into his raincoat. A limousine has drawn up. A servant helps him to dress. In a moment another umbrella has joined the crawl of umbrellas over the pavement.
It rains. And a great financier is riding home to dinner.
PITZELA'S SON
"His name?" said Feodor Mishkin. "Hm! Always you want names. Is life a matter of names and addresses or is it something else?"
"But the story would be better, Feodor, with names in it."
The rotund and omniscient journalist from the west side muttered to himself in Russian.
"Better!" he repeated. "And why better? If I tell you his name is Yankel or Berella or Chaim Duvit do you know any more than if I tell you his name is Pitzela?"
"No. We will drop the matter. I will call him Chaim Yankel."
"You will call him Chaim Yankel! And what for? His name is Pitzela and not
Chaim Yankel."
"Thanks."