chapter 1
I
The First Vice-President of the William Howard Taft National Bank and Trust Company, the gentleman to whom Miss Orison McCall was applying for a job, was not at all the public picture of a banker. His suit of hound's-tooth checks, the scarlet vest peeping above the vee of his jacket, were enough to assure Orison that the Taft Bank was a curious bank indeed. "I gotta say, chick, these references of yours really swing," said the Vice-President, Mr. Wanji. "Your last boss says you come on real cool in the secretary-bit."
"He was a very kind employer," Orison said. She tried to keep from staring at the most remarkable item of Mr. Wanji's costume, a pair of furry green earmuffs. It was not cold.
Mr. Wanji returned to Orison her letters of reference. "What color bread you got eyes for taking down, baby?" he asked.
"Beg pardon?"
"What kinda salary you bucking for?" he translated, bouncing up and down on the toes of his rough-leather desert boots.
