Stern, who wrote the editorial material on product labels, traveled eight floors upward to his office now, where he was greeted by his secretary, a tall, somber girl with gently rounded but sorrowful buttocks. She had lost both parents beneath a bus, and although she served Stern with loyalty, she placed a dark and downbeat cast upon all events.
"I've got something lousy in me and I've got to go away," Stern said. "Tell Mr. Belavista I want to see him. I've got to get wound up here so I can get out."
"What is it?" she asked. "The worst?"
"No, it's not the worst," Stern said. "But it's lousy and I'd rather not have it in there."
"Things like that take a long time to get cleared up," she said. "All right, do you want the bad news now?"
"What do you mean, bad news?" Stern asked. "All right, give it to me."
"The mail hasn't come yet and you've got someone who's been waiting on the phone."
"Is that it?" Stern asked.
"Yes," she said.