The door opened and Benny Perminger wandered in. Caston gave him a quick look and groaned. This was certainly not going to be his day. Benny was looking like something the cat had dug up.
“And what’s your trouble?” he asked shortly.
Benny sank into the arm−chair and sighed. “Nice bit that, ain’t she?” he said, pursing up his mouth.
Caston frowned. “Who’s a nice bit?” he demanded.
“Miss Mackelsfield,” Benny explained. “Lucky guy havin’ a secretary like that.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Caston said. “What of it?”
Benny closed one eye and leered. “You bachelors,” he said; “I bet you an’ she have a grand time.”
Caston sat up stiffly. “Now see here, Perminger, I don’t like that kind of talk. This is a business place, and business only is conducted here.”
“Nuts! What kind of business? All you guys do in these offices is to horse around with your secretaries. I know. It’s guys like me out in the general office that don’t get the chances.”
Caston thought it wise to shift the ground. “Well, you didn’t come in here to tell me that, did you?”