I got up and came around the desk and took her by the elbow, standing at my door. "Just in case," I said, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the lips. "I love you, too."
"Too?" she said.
I froze. It was the kind of slip that sooner or later trips up every snake. My grin was a sick one. I walked out without another word.
The Director's office is on the fourth floor, I climbed the single flight, and his girl let me in. George affects long slim cigars. I say affects. He seldom lights them, but he waves them like batons, conducting some kind of a symphony of words and ideas all day.
"Welcome, stranger," he said, calling on the fiddles for a little pizzicato. "What's up, Gyp?"
I sat down across from him at his desk and tried to put a smile on my face. "I want to submit my resignation, George," I said. "Effective immediately."
"Not accepted," he said, without a second thought. Then his face grew solemn. "What's this about?" he demanded. "I can't lose you, Gyp. My right bower!"
"One favor," I said, not answering him. "Don't move Fred Plaice up to my old spot. Any of the other Section Chiefs, but not Fred."
"Well, well," George said, whipping up the brasses with his cigar. "This begins to sound like cause and effect." He hushed the whole orchestra to a whisper. "I thought Fred was your fair-haired boy, Gyp. You two get in a hassle?"