And next thing I knew, when I got up to go, I had let myself in for hauling her down to the boulevard, so she could go to a picture show. Her father had to go out again that night, and he was using the car, and that meant that unless I hauled her she would have to go down by bus. I didn't want to haul her. I didn't want to have anything to do with her. But when he kind of turned to me there was nothing I could do but offer, and she ran and got her hat and coat, and in a minute or two there we were, rolling down the hill.

"Mr. Huff?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to a picture show."

"No?"

"I'm meeting somebody. At the drugstore."

"Oh."

"Would you haul us both down?"

"Oh-sure."

"You won't mind?"

"No, not a bit."

"And you won't tell on me? There are reasons why I don't want them to know. At home."

"No, of course not."

We stopped at the drugstore, and she jumped out and in a minute came back with a young guy, with an Italian-looking face, pretty good-looking, that had been standing around outside. "Mr. Huff, this is Mr. Sachetti."

"How are you, Mr. Sachetti. Get in."

They got in, and kind of grinned at each other, and we rolled down Beachwood to the boulevard. "Where do you want me to set you down?"

"Oh, anywhere."

"Hollywood and Vine all right?"

"Swell."

I set them down there, and after she got out, she reached out her hand, and took mine, and thanked me, her eyes shining like stars. "It was darling of you to take us. Lean close, I'll tell you a secret."

"Yes?"

"If you hadn't taken us we'd have had to walk."

"How are you going to get back?"

"Walk."

"You want some money?"

"No, my father would kill me. I spent all my week's money. No, but thanks. And remember-don't tell on me."

"Hurry, you'll miss your light."

I drove home. Phyllis got there in about a half hour. She was humming a song out of a Nelson Eddy picture. "Did you like my sweater?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Isn't it a lovely color? I never wore old rose before. I think it's going to be really becoming to me."

"It's going to look all right."

"Where did you leave Lola?"

"On the boulevard."

"Where did she go?"

"I didn't notice."

"Was there somebody waiting for her?"

"Not that I saw. Why?"

"I was just wondering. She's been going around with a boy named Sachetti. A perfectly terrible person. She's been forbidden to see him."

"He wasn't on deck tonight. Anyway, I didn't see him. Why didn't you tell me about her?"

"Well? You said have a witness."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean her."

"Isn't she as good a witness as any other?"

"Yeah, but holy smoke there's a limit. A man's own daughter, and we're even using her-for what we're using her for."

An awful look came over her face, and her voice got hard as glass. "What's the matter? Are you getting ready to back out?"

"No, but you could have got somebody else. Me, driving her down to the boulevard, and all the time I had this in my pocket." I took out the applications, and showed them to her. One of those "agent's copies" was an updated application for a $25,000 personal accident policy, with double indemnity straight down the line for any disability or death incurred on a railroad train.

It was part of the play that I had to make two or three calls on Nirdlinger in his office. The first time, I gave him the bail-bond guarantee, stuck around about five minutes, told him to put it in his car, and left. The next time I gave him a little leather memo book, with his name stamped on it in gilt, just a little promotion feature we have for policy holders. The third time I delivered the automobile policies, and took his check, $79. 52. When I got back to the office that day, Nettie told me there was somebody waiting for me in my private office. "Who?"

"A Miss Lola Nirdlinger and a Mr. Sachetti, I think she said. I didn't get his first name."

I went in there and she laughed. She liked me, I could see that. "You surprised to see us again?"

"Oh, not much. What can I do for you?"

"We've come in to ask a favor. But it's your own fault."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"What you said the other night to Father about being able to get money on his car, if he needed it. We've come to take you up on it. Or anyway, Nino has."

That was something I had to do something about, the competition I was getting from the Automobile Club on an automobile loan. They lend money on a member's car, and I got to the point where I had to, too, if I was going to get any business. So I organized a little finance company of my own, had myself made a director, and spent about one day a week there. It didn't have anything to do with the insurance company, but it was one way I could meet that question that I ran into all the time: "Do you lend money on a car?" I had mentioned it to Nirdlinger, just as part of the sales talk, but I didn't know she was paying attention. I looked at Sachetti. "You want to borrow money on your car?"

"Yes sir."

"What kind of car is it?"

He told me. It was a cheap make.

"Sedan?"

"Coupe."

"It's in your name? And paid for?"

"Yes sir."

They must have seen a look cross my face, because she giggled. "He couldn't use it the other night. He didn't have any gas."

"Oh."

I didn't want to lend him money on his car, or anything else. I didn't want to have anything to do with him, or her, in any way, shape, or form. I lit a cigarette, and sat there a minute. "You sure you want to borrow money on this car? Because if you're not working now, what I mean if you don't absolutely see your way clear to pay it back, it's a sure way to lose it. The whole secondhand car business depends on people that thought they could pay a small loan back, and couldn't."

She looked at me very solemnly. "It's different with Nino. He isn't working, but he doesn't want this loan just to have money to spend. You see, he's done all his work for his Sc.D., and-"

"Where?"

"U.S.C."

"What in?"

"Chemistry. If he can only get his degree, he's sure of work, he's been promised that, and it seems such a pity to miss a chance for a really good position just because he hasn't taken his degree. But to take it, he has to have his dissertation published, and pay this and that, for his diploma for instance, and that's what he wants this money for. He won't spend it on his living. He has friends that will take care of that."

I had to come through. I knew that. I wouldn't have, if it didn't make me so nervous to be around her, but all I could think of now was to say yes and get them out of there. "How much do you want?"

"He thought if he could get $250, that would be enough."

"I see. I see."

I figured it up. With charges, it would amount to around $285, and it was an awfully big loan on the car he was going to put up. "Well-give me a day or two on it. I think we can manage it."

They went out, and then she ducked back. "You're awfully nice to me. I don't know why I keep bothering you about things."

"That's all right, Miss Nirdlinger, I'm glad-"

"You can call me Lola, if you want to."

"Thanks, I'll be glad to help any time I can."

"This is secret, too."

"Yes, I know."

"I'm terribly grateful, Mr. Huff."

"Thanks-Lola."

The accident policy came through a couple of days later. That meant I had to get his check for it, and get it right away, so the dates would correspond. You understand, I wasn't going to deliver the accident policy, to him. That would go to Phyllis, and she would find it later, in his safe deposit box. And I wasn't going to tell him anything about it. Just the same, I had to get his check, in the exact amount of the policy, so later on, when they checked up his stubs and his cancelled checks, they would find he had paid for it himself. That would check with the application in our files, and it would also check with those trips I had made to his office, if they put me on the spot.