She looked like a young woman who knew her way around. Sitting there in her apartment wearing a negligee, which showed enough bare leg to demonstrate clearly that she was entitled to an AAA1 priority on stockings, she was neither forward nor in the slightest degree embarrassed. So far as she was concerned, I wasn’t a human being. I was simply six pair of stockings at a bargain price.
“I’ll want to see samples,” she observed abruptly.
“The guarantee protects you.”
“How do I know it does?”
“Because you don’t pay anything until you’ve not only received the stockings, but have worn them for a full thirty days.”
She said, “I shouldn’t think you could afford to do that.”
“The only way we can is by having a very select mailing list. However, we want to get down to business. I have half a dozen other calls to make. Your name’s Edna Cutler. You want these stockings exclusively for your own use?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Now, I understand that you aren’t in business. I’m taking your assurance that none of these stockings will be offered for sale again?”
“Why, certainly. I want them for myself.”