Tim was at the editor’s desk when she and Chub came into the office. “Think we’re getting out a weekly?” the editor was bawling. “Is this all the copy you can turn in?”
“I would have had more,” Tim defended himself. “But I spent most of the day hunting for the King girl’s picture.”
“Where is it?”
“I haven’t it,” Tim answered and added, “yet.”
Joan wished they could go over now, but she knew Tim would be provoked if Editor Nixon found out they had hunted for the picture. They could do nothing but stand there in the doorway and listen.
“It’s got to be in the hands of the engraver by ten in the morning,” the editor said. “So get a wiggle on, Martin.”
They reached Tim’s desk before he did, and held out the picture.
“Oh, fine!” Tim did not even say thank you, but the grateful look on his face repaid them for all their trouble. He went back to the editor’s desk with the picture.
“Good for you, Martin!” shouted the editor. “I didn’t believe anybody could get that picture!” He looked at it. “Yes, that’s the girl, all right. Looks a bit like Jacqueline Joyce, the screen star, doesn’t it, Betty?”
The society editor looked at it. “A little,” she agreed. “Seems to me I’ve heard people say that.”