"Well, because I like to manage men, or I think I do. And they take to me."
"You know that?"
"I do. In the next place I know too much about art to want to do the little things that I'm doing. I can do bigger things."
"I like that also," applauded Summerfield. He was thinking that Eugene was nice and good looking, a little pale and thin to be wholly forceful, perhaps, he wasn't sure. His hair a little too long. His manner, perhaps, a bit too deliberate. Still he was nice. Why did he wear a soft hat? Why did artists always insist on wearing soft hats, most of them? It was so ridiculous, so unbusinesslike.
"How much do you get?" he added, "if it's a fair question."
"Less than I'm worth," said Eugene. "Only fifty dollars. But I took it as a sort of health cure. I had a nervous breakdown several years ago—better now, as Mulvaney used to say—and I don't want to stay at that. I'm an art director by temperament, or I think I am. Anyhow, here I am."
"You mean," said Summerfield, "you never ran an art department before?"
"Never."
"Know anything about advertising?"
"I used to think so."