"I'll have nothing to do with it!" Davey exploded at last. "It's a damned outrage! Why—this tale will be all over the place. The Jews will get hold of it, and make complaints in London. Next you know, the U.S. State Department will be raising blue hell. Questions asked in Congress. Headlines in all the papers! What do you suppose our people will think of me?"
"Refer them to your wife, Davey. She's got you out of much worse messes."
"I'll drive the car straight up to OETA and lodge my protest against this in less than fifteen minutes!"
"No need; Davey, old man. Goodenough will be in here presently.
Kick to him."
Mrs. Davey went into the next room and returned with a roll of coarse cotton cloth.
"I've no bags, Jim, but if this stuff will do I can sew some right now."
"Good enough, Emily, go to it."
"D'you want to lose me my job?" demanded Davey. But his wife took up the scissors and smiled back at him.
"You know better than that. We've trusted Jim before."
"Listen, Davey; this thing's serious," said Grim.