‘I understand, Lawrence, but …’

Never in his life had he cut Mr Gargan off.’ I mean to say that I wouldn’t be happy in Hogan’s position. He’s no better than a clerk, he …’

‘That’s a mistake on your part. Hogan does important …’

‘But why?’ (And why was he so sure the thighs and perfume of Gertrude Hart had started this, had blown the lid off his fury? Good God, how dare he talk to Mr Gargan like this? The very floor seemed to be shaking!) ‘Why, Mr Gargan ? Haven’t I done a job? I’ve got my glasses, I’ve just hired a fine girl, I …’

Mr Gargan was standing. He was standing at his full height which was much higher than Mr Newman’s. Mr Newman stopped talking as he found himself on his feet.

‘Mr Lorsch … and I …’ Now he too was angry. It was dreadful. ‘Mr Lorsch and I think it would be better for everybody concerned if you worked in Mr Hogan’s office. There’s no rush, but try to be moved by the first of the month.’

Mr Newman heard the clear bell of authority. Mr Gargan turned and walked out amid his echo.

He sat at his desk staring across the wide floor of desks and girls, staring at Hogan’s closed door. A clerk now, after so many years. A clerk with no authority whatever, no appointments, no phone. He would be Hogan, in a sense ….

After all these years.

He got to his feet, choking with unshed tears, took a deep breath and slowly sat down again. It couldn’t be final. Not after all these years. A few words, and all the delicate parts of his life smashed to bits, his glass-enclosed office, his domain stretching out before him filled with desks and girls who depended only on him. It could not be final …

He opened the left-hand drawer of his desk and took out a small mirror and looked into it. His face was glistening with sweat. His nose seemed beaked, horribly. He stood up and looked down at the mirror to get a longer view. It was bad, yes, it was bad.

But it was not that bad. Not after all these years. He was moving toward Mr Gargan’s office, through Miss Keller’s office, and in a moment he stood before his chief.

Gargan looked at him and got to his feet. Mr Newman raised his chin as though water were rising around him.

‘Mr Gargan, I can’t honestly see what harm I’d be doing in my office,’ he said flatly.

‘That’s not for you to determine, is it, Newman?’

‘No, but if you want me out of the way, why not …?’

‘Frankly, Newman, I ought to say that I didn’t notice anything until Mr Lorsch made me realize. But I can see his point. We don’t feel you’ll make a good impression on people who might come into the outer office for the first time. We understand your situation and we’re willing to pay you your old salary for doing Hogan’s work. I don’t know what else there is to say, fella.’