“Come here,” he said.
“Oh, Lute,” she said. She knelt down beside him and cried a little and then kissed him. “I feel so sorry for Caroline. You, I—”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I still get my check from the government, and I can get lots of jobs—” he cleared his throat “—in fact, that’s my trouble. I was saying to Alfred P. Sloan the other day. He called me up. I meant to tell you, but it didn’t seem important. So I said to Al—”
“Who’s Alfred P. Sloan?”
“My God. Here I been selling—he’s president of General Motors.”
“Oh. So what did you say to him?” said Irma.
