“Thanks,” he said uncomfortably, “but I think I ought to be moving on.”
“Have you had your dinner?” Penny asked.
“Not yet.”
“Then do come with me, Ben. Or don’t you want to tell me what happened at the Mirror?”
“It’s not that, Penny. The truth is—well—”
“You haven’t the price of a dinner?” Penny supplied. “Is that it, Ben?”
“I’m practically broke,” he acknowledged ruefully. “Sounds screwy in a day and age like this, but I’m not strong enough for factory work. Was rejected from the Army on account of my health. Tomorrow I guess I’ll take a desk job somewhere, but I’ve held off, not wanting to get stuck on it.”
“You’re a newspaper man, Ben. Reporting is all you’ve ever done, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’m finished now. Can’t get a job anywhere.” The young man started to move away, but Penny caught his arm again.
“Ben, you are having dinner with me,” she insisted. “I have plenty of money, and this is my treat. I really want to talk to you.”