"I think there's an envelope from him in the stack."
"What?" Colihan hoped that his concern wasn't visible. He riffled through the papers hurriedly, and came up with a neat white envelope engraved with the words: OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT.
Miss Blanche watched him, frankly curious. "That will be all," he told her curtly.
When she had left, he ripped the envelope open and read the contents. It was in Moss's own cramped handwriting, and it was a request for a three o'clock "man-to-man" talk.
Oh, Lord, he thought. Now it's going to happen.
President Moss was eating an apple.
He ate so greedily that the juice spilled over his chin.
Sitting behind his massive oak desk, chair tilted back, apple juice dappling his whiskers, he looked so small and unformidable, that Colihan took heart.
"Well, Ralph—how goes it?"