"We're the sales staff, of course."
"Sales?" Blankly.
"Sales. It's Miss Laara's feeling that a sales staff ought to be expert at selling."
"Obviously," Heck said.
"Look at these girls! Can they sell, d'you think? In those uniforms they could sell Union Station to the police chief and make it stick."
"But their experience—"
"They're all experienced. They're chorus girls or burlesque girls or party girls or pr—"
"That's enough!" Heck cried. "You've made your point."
"Then all I want to know is, do you approve of the uniform or don't you approve of the uniform?"
Heck couldn't think. Everybody was running Hector Finch but Hector Finch. He took one more look around the locker room. Most of the girls were in their uniforms now. They had not minded Heck's being there. Why should they? They were all used to that sort of thing.