“It’s mighty awkward,” said Owen Ross, the insurance solicitor.
“It is,” admitted Dave Murray.
“I’ve been after him for over six months,” persisted Ross, “and now, after urging him persistently to take out a policy, I have got to tell him that we won’t give him one. That would be hard enough if he had sought us out, and it’s ten times as hard when we have sought him. Why, it looks as if we were playing a heartless practical joke on him.”
“But it can’t be helped,” said Murray. “It’s one of the disagreeable features of the business. We convince a man that it’s to his interest to carry life insurance, and then we tell him he can’t have any. Naturally, from his prejudiced viewpoint, we seem to be contemptibly insincere and deceitful.”
“Of course, we are in no sense shortening his life,” remarked Ross, “but it seems like pronouncing a sentence of death, just the same. He is sure to make an awful row about it.”
“One man,” said Murray reminiscently, “fell dead in this office when his application was refused. The shock killed him, but there was no way to avoid giving him the shock. However, that was an exceptional case: I never knew of another to succumb, although it must be admitted that the news that one is destined not to live long is distressing and depressing.”
“What’s the reason for refusing Tucker?” asked Ross.
“There are several reasons,” replied Murray. “The physician reports heart murmur, which indicates some latent trouble that is almost certain to develop into a serious affection.”
“May not the physician be wrong?”
“He is paid to be right, but, of course, we are all liable to make mistakes, and it can’t be denied that heart murmur is deceptive. I’ve known men to be the subject of unfavorable reports at one hour of the day and most favorable ones at another. The occupation immediately preceding the examination may develop symptoms that are normally absent. However, I would not feel justified in accepting this application, even if the report were favorable.”