" T. A. Junior had strangely translucent eyes. Their
luminous quality had an odd effect upon any one on whom he happened to
turn them. He had been scrawling meaningless curlycues on a piece of
paper as Ed Meyers talked. Now he put down the pencil, turned, and
looked Ed Meyers fairly in the eye.
"You mean you want Mrs. McChesney's territory?" he asked quietly.
"Well, yes, I do," confessed Ed Meyers, without a blush.
Young T. A. swung back to his desk, tore from the pad before him the
piece of paper on which he had been scrawling, crushed it, and tossed
it into the wastebasket with an air of finality.
"Take the second elevator down," he said. "The nearest one's out of
order."
For a moment Ed Meyers stared, his fat face purpling. "Oh, very well,"
he said, rising. "I just made you a business proposition, that's all.
I thought I was talking to a business man. Now, old T. A.--"
"That'll be about all," observed T. A. Junior, from his desk.
Ed Meyers started toward the door. Then he paused, turned, and came
back to his chair.
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