"Maybe you're the only people I can admit this to," he said, "but I'm whipped."
"You actually mean that, Archy?" June's voice was not quite mocking.
"Yes. I thought there was nothing I couldn't get on top of—I was like that damned walking marionette that just pranced out of here—a blowhard. I'm beat, folks."
"Maybe you'll come up with something," offered Otto. "Maybe...." June shushed him.
"You two had better get out from under," said Archy. "June, find some nice guy to marry—hell, marry Otto, I know he likes you. I'm pulling my money out of the bank—split it between you. It won't help me where I'm going."
June sat on his lap.
"Honey, suppose there was a way for you to get rid of all those projections? Then you could take the credit and come back strong as ever."
"How could I take the credit?"
"Suppose your own staff made the plan? After all, you're smart enough to hire them."
"Maybe this sounds crazy, coming from me, but the credit would go to whoever deserved it. What good is it to be a big shot if you know you've been licked, even once?"