He was about to take to flight, when he saw Jimmy Wallace standing in the doorway. He was loaded to the arm-pits with a miscellaneous assortment of packages, and as his gaze roved about the room you could see a faint smile on his lips. The moment he caught Foster's eye, he came over to his table and sat down.
Jimmy was a dramatic critic, and the packages now piled in a chair represented a stream of Christmas presents that had been coming into his office all the afternoon.
He had just dropped in, on his way to the elevated, to have a glass of beer and accumulate sufficient muscular energy to carry his presents the rest of the