‘About ten. Take care now. Did the boy deliver the paper?’

‘Oh yes. Get something cool to drink.’

‘I will, Mother. And sit out on the porch.’

‘There’s mosquitoes.’

‘Then be sure the windows are open wide if you stay inside. Good-bye now.’

‘Good-bye.’

He came out of the booth and walked over to the table where Willy Mallon was waiting for him. He felt happy at how well he had hidden the pen set.

‘Is it all right?’ Willy asked. He had a shiny washed face and what Mr Newman regarded as a typically Irish expression. His eyes were smooth-lidded and blue, and his ears stuck out. He was only thirty-three, he said, and yet he had four children.

‘Imagine,’ Mr Newman said, sitting across the table from him,’ so close and we never happened into each other.’

‘I don’t get in till ten most mornings and I leave at four. Maybe that’s why,’ Willy said.

‘I guess so,’ Mr Newman said. He had gone into the restaurant men’s room before phoning home and his hair looked as though he had just come from a swim.

‘Sounds like a fine position, Willy,’ he complimented unwillingly. He was slightly taken aback by Willy’s hours. In fact, he was a little suspicious of Willy’s truthfulness, for the man seemed too well off for his years. He had picked out a restaurant that Mr Newman would never have dared enter. It was one where many brokers ate. The service was sterling silver and the napkins were heavy linen. There were smoky beams across the ceiling and black paneling in the walls.

‘Oh, I like it,’ Willy said. ‘Good job.’

‘How long’ve you been with the company?’

‘Since I left high school. Matter of fact it’s the only job I ever had.’

‘Worked right up, eh?’ Mr Newman chuckled to mask his envy.

‘Guess you might say that. I’m second in charge of merchandising. Actually I’m in charge. The chief’s in the Navy. What about you? By the way, you know you’ve changed quite a lot.’

‘Have I?’

‘I don’t think I’d have recognized you if you hadn’t stopped me first.’

‘Well, when you hit forty, you know …’

‘I guess so. What’ll you have?’

The waiter bent over them. Mr Newman had seven dollars in his pocket. The dinners were two dollars and up. He chose one for two dollars and was relieved at Willy’s doing the same.

Although now that he had seen how well fixed the man was he regretted having insisted they dine together. He had no stomach for telling Willy Mallon, the bread driver, that he would appreciate his inquiring around for a position in his company.

The waiter gone they found words again.

‘Never got married, eh?’ Willy began wonderingly, as though trying to make up his mind about Newman.

‘No,’ Newman chuckled again, ‘never really had the time for it.’ Whenever he felt penetrated he chuckled, then broke off, and kept his mouth open thoughtfully and played with whatever lay near at hand. Now it was a knife. ‘There’s a prospect though.’ He heard himself with alarm. ‘She’s still in the … well, the first stages, you might say, but she does interest me. I guess I’ve just been too busy to do much looking around.’