has the imagination and initiative to go to Canada, or
Australia, or America. He wore spectacles, not the
fashionable horn-rimmed sort, but the kind with gold ear
pieces. They were becoming, and gave a certain humanness to
a face that otherwise would have been too rugged, too
strong. A man of forty-five, perhaps.

He spoke first. "You're younger than I thought."

"So are you."

"Old inside."

"So am I."

He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, folded his arms on
the desk.

"You've been through the plant, Miss Brandeis?"

"Yes. Twice. Once with a regular tourist party. And once
with the special guide."
"Good. Go through the plant whenever you can. Don't stick
to your own department. It narrows one." He paused a
moment. "Did you think that this opportunity to come to
Haynes-Cooper, as assistant to the infants' wear department
buyer was just a piece of luck, augmented by a little
pulling on your part?"

"Yes."