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The Atmosphere Of The Office That Morning was A Shade Less Genial Than
Usual. We Had All Of Us Fought Our Way Downtown Through Such A Storm
Of Wind, Snow, Slush, And Sleet As Is To Be Found Nowhere Save In
Mid-March New York, And Our Tempers Had Suffered accordingly. I Had
Found A Cab Unobtainable, And There Was, Of Course, The Inevitable Jam
On The Elevated, With The Trains Many Minutes Behind The Schedule. I
Was Some Half-Hour Late, In consequence, And When I Entered the Inner
Office, I Was Surprised to Find Mr. Graham, Our Senior, Already At His
Desk. He Nodded good-Morning a Little Curtly.
"I Wish You'D Look Over These Papers In the Hurd Case, Lester," He
Said, And Pushed them Toward Me.
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