“Sure,” said Caroline, amused at the thought of anything interesting happening to them, “the day’s just started.”
“Is the boss in yet?” asked Robert Holton. He was terribly afraid of getting in bad, thought Caroline, looking at him. He was rather cowardly but nice. Perhaps having been in the war had changed him. Perhaps he would improve.
Ruth shook her head. “No, he’s not in yet. He hasn’t come in yet. He’s always late, Mr Murphy is.” Mr Murphy was the head of the Statistical Section where Robert Holton worked. Caroline was Mr Murphy’s secretary.
“Well, I’m glad,” said Robert Holton.
“You certainly are eager,” said Ruth, looking up at him, her head slightly to one side: the way that movie actresses looked.
Robert Holton laughed. “I guess I am.”
“And after all you’ve been through, too! Why, if I’d seen what you’ve seen I wouldn’t worry what nob ... anybody thought.”
“That’s what I used to say,” said Robert Holton.
“Come on, Bob,” said Caroline. “Let’s get back to the salt mine.”
Ruth nodded to them and they walked into a long room. On one side of the room were the doors of offices; the other side was covered with tremendous pictures of factories and ships and railroads. The pictures were Mr Golden’s idea. He wanted to explain to customers the real meaning of the stocks they were buying. Mr Golden always wanted people to feel that the stock market was a creative, a productive thing.