Peale. Now, one moment, Mr. Martin. I just want to say that I am a man of few words—that this isn’t advertising, it’s personal. I know you don’t like me.
Martin. Why do you say that?
Peale. Because I’m a pretty wise gink.
Martin. Well, you are a bit——
Peale. Fresh? Well, I guess that’s right, too. But that’s me—I’m not your style. Here’s the idea: your son has been immense to me. Great kid, and it struck me the reason you wouldn’t back him was because I was mixed up in his business. So I just came to say if that’s the situation, why I’m out, that’s all. You go ahead with him alone.
Martin. You’re not a partner?
Peale. I should say not. I’m just a hired hand. He could can me any moment, but he’s not the kind of guy who’d do that.
Martin. Then you haven’t power to sign, to make a deal?
Peale. I should say not. Why, he and Miss Grayson do all the signing. If I could have signed contracts, I’d have spent a million dollars in advertising. And believe me, you ought to back him, because, honest, Mr. Martin, it’s a great scheme—the 13 Soap, on the level, if it’s handled right and the publicity end is——