"She did," replied Desmond, "and of your adventures. Could you favour me with a brief recital of your career?"
"For copy? No, my lad; I am reserving that for my own paper. Any chance for another paper here?" he asked, casually.
"You had better not ask me. I am still an employe of The Observer.'"
"Still? Do you anticipate a move?" asked Quirk, leaning half over the counter.
"I do. I have my marching orders."
"Been playing up, eh? Well, I was a holy terror at your age. I made the old dad's life a torment to him, and sowed a bushel of grey hairs in the mother's head. Is the boss in?"
"Cairns? Yes, I think so."
"Approachable?" asked Quirk.
"Sometimes," replied Desmond.