“You wouldn't tell me, you know. Nothing very flattering, I judged.”
“As a disenchanted and uncontrolled drifter.”
“And now you think perhaps I'm not?”
“I don't know what you are, but I think I might as well be clicking the shutter of a camera, for all I've done with you. The point is, that I've come to the end of you for the present.”
“You don't want me any more?” he cried, aghast.
“If I did, you wouldn't have time. I've got you a real man's job.”
“What kind of slavery have you sold me into this time?”
“The steam-roller. I've used my influence—you don't know what a pull I've got around here—and I can name my man for the late night-shift. Will you take it?” His face was elate. “Will I take it! Will a duck eat pie?”
“I'm sure I don't know. Will it?”
“It will if it can't get anything else to eat. How long is this job good for?”