He said it as if he were annunciating a religious principle.
“And the dolls?” I asked.
He made a wry face.
“Oh, I still sell the little beasts,” he replied. “I’m assistant sales manager now, you know.”
“Good work!”
“Beastly grind,” he said. “I detest dolls. But they’re going to build me a house in the country.”
“A doll house?” I suggested.
He did not smile; his look said that his house was too sacred a matter for facetiousness.
“How are you, anyhow? Married, or anything like that?” I inquired.
“The living room is going to be thirty-five by twenty,” he said.