"In matters like this," he said, "I guess you're the Big Authority. And by the way, do you ever do any book reviewing? I work for Fawcett and Company, the publishers, and we'd like immensely to have your comment on some of our love stories. Can I send you some books?"
"I can't promise to review them," said Ann, rather pleased, because this seemed to her a way to earn a little extra money. "But I'll speak to the literary editor, and we'll see.
"Suppose I send them to your home address," said Caldwell. "I know what a newspaper office is, if I send them here someone else might snitch them. Give me your street number, and you'll be spared the trouble of taking them home to read."
"That's very kind of you," said Ann. "Miss Ann Austin, 527 West 150th Street. Well, you let me know what happens about your fair lady. I wish you all sorts of luck!"
When Arthur Caldwell got outside the office, he looked down Park Row to where the great Telephone Building rose up behind the brown silhouette of St. Paul's.
"Caldwell," he said to himself, "you're an infernal liar! But it pays! I'll figure out some way. While there's life there's dope."
