“You may find it difficult to get a job again.”
The soup and the sherry turned up then. Duffy looked at the sherry and then at Morgan. Morgan got it all right. “Perhaps you would prefer Scotch?” he asked.
“These sissy drinks upset my guts,” Duffy said, apologetically.
The wine waiter was called and a bottle of Scotch materialized. Duffy felt he could cope with anything with that at his elbow. He gave himself a generous shot and dived into his soup again.
“As I was saying…” Morgan began.
Duffy raised his head. His eyes were hard. “You seem to know a hell of a lot,” he said sharply, “who told you——?”
Morgan waved his hand. “Please,” he said, “let me continue. I was saying, you will find another job difficult to get.”
Duffy laid his spoon down with a sharp clatter. “You know, pal,” he said, “a guy with my experience seldom stands in the bread-line. I’ve got a swell equipment, I know my job, and if the worst comes, I could set up a studio. I guess you’re being mighty pleasant with your sympathy, but I ain’t worryin’ and I’d hate to have you worry for me.”
“I’m quite sure,” Morgan said, rather hastily, “you’ll get along all right, but I have a proposition that might be extremely useful to help you start that studio.”
“What is it?”