“What’s the name of the man that’s taking your reservation?” the ticket seller asked of the ready-to-wear youth.
“Why I—”
“I’ll have that for you right away, Charlie,” Rosemary broke in.
“O.K.” Charlie turned to other matters.
Ten minutes later Rosemary received the second shock of the day and from the same source. Someone touched her on the arm. She wheeled about to find herself looking at a young man in spotless linen, faultless gray suit and traveling cap. In his hand he carried a dark brown walrus-hide bag.
“I—I—why you—” she stammered.
“Quick change artist.” He smiled broadly. “Got hold of my bag, you see.”
It was the young man who only a brief time before did not fit into her picture of perfection.
“Di-did you get it?” he asked. There was a slight twitch about his mouth.
She nodded. “Step over here.”