“We’ll need thousands of the things,” said Lewis, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t sit here day and night, drawing them.”
“You may have to do that,” I said, enjoying myself.
“There must be another way.”
“Why not draw a bunch of them, then mimeograph the drawing?” I suggested. “We could send the mimeographer sheets through to him in bundles.”
I hated to say it, because I was still enamoured of the idea o: sticking Lewis somewhere off in a corner, sentenced to a lifetime of drawing the same thing over and over.
“That might work,” said Lewis, brightening annoyingly “It’s just simple enough…”
“Practical is the word,” I snapped. “If it were simple, you’d have thought of it.”
“I leave things like that to detail men.”
“You’d better!”
It took a while and a whole bottle before we calmed down.