“His dinner jacket was too tight, his wig too loose. “Couple things I want to talk to you about, Gil,” he said now, leaning an elbow on the white-covered dinner table. The cartoonist had been talking to the old man’s youngest daughter, who was seated on his right. “Sure,” he said, “right after dessert, if you want.” “Right now would be better,” said Walling. “I can’t stand the dessert we’re going to have tonight, anyhow. Some junk with imitation whipped cream all over.” His wife, als...o short and fat, smiled nervously at him. “You ought to stay to the end, A.J. All our guests . . .” She nodded, carefully, at the dozen people seated at the long rectangular table. “It don’t matter, they all owe what they’ve got to me.” Walling shoved out of his highback chair, heading for the hallway. “I don’t have to be nice to them.” “Another of his lovable displays of character,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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