"Careful, beautiful," I said. "You'll die of your own poisons, if you don't look out." I waved to her and left. After I'd had a bite to eat, I went to see one of the biggest agents in the business, the guy who books all the acts into the Capitol in New York.
"Look, Morry," I said, when his secretary had ushered me into his office, which was big enough to hold the World Series in, "I've really got something terrific lined up."
Morry looked up at me and his little eyes were uninterested. He yawned and dusted a fleck of dust from the sleeve of his coat.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's a magician's act that—"
Morry shook his head. "Magicians are dead. Who wants to see rabbits pulled out of a hat?"
"This is different. This guy is good."
"All right, he's good," Morry said. "So what? We can't use him."
"But you ought to at least see the act," I pleaded. "It's got a honey of a girl, too."
"Girl?" Morry glanced up and there was a flicker of interest in his little eyes.