Jerry grinned. "I didn't take that kind of advantage, Mr. Conners. Not that she wasn't a toothsome little dish ..."
"Just thank your lucky stars that it didn't go any further. And from now on—" He waggled a finger at him. "Watch your step."
Jerry got up and ambled to the door. But he turned before leaving and said:
"By the way. What do you think is going on?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
"Don't kid me, Mr. Conners. Think it's war?"
"That'll be all, Bridges."
The reporter closed the door behind him, and then strolled out of the building into the sunlight.
He met Ruskin, the fat little AP correspondent, in front of the Pan-American Building on Constitution Avenue. Ruskin was holding the newspaper that contained the gossip-column item which had started the whole affair, and he seemed more interested in the romantic rather than political implications. As he walked beside him, he said: