And generally he gets it.
Yes, sir, he generally gets it. He knows what he's about,
but I'll be blessed if the rest of us do half the time.
Anyway, we don't till he's ready to let us. You take
my position in most business houses. It's confidential.
The head book-keeper knows right along pretty much
everything the house has got in hand. I'll give you
my word I don't. He may open up to you a little more
in your department, but, as far as the rest of us go,
he don't open up any more than an oyster on a hot brick.
They say he had a partner once; I guess he's dead.
I wouldn't like to be the old man's partner. Well,
you see, this paint of his is like his heart's blood.
Better not try to joke him about it. I've seen people
come in occasionally and try it. They didn't get much
fun out of it."
While he talked, Walker was plucking up morsels from his plate,
tearing off pieces of French bread from the long loaf,
and feeding them into his mouth in an impersonal way,
as if he were firing up an engine.
"I suppose he thinks," suggested Corey, "that if he
doesn't tell, nobody else will."
Walker took a draught of beer from his glass, and wiped
the foam from his moustache.
"Oh, but he carries it too far! It's a weakness with him.
He's just so about everything. Look at the way he keeps
it up about that type-writer girl of his.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163