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She said to me, “Miss Perkins, he's a fancy. He's one of those fancy people that we occasionally run across in New York.”

I said, “Really, what makes you think so?” She said, “I know. I know more about Jews than you do.” She's a Jew herself. “I can tell them. He's not straight. He's fancy.”

I said, “You got that just from the impression he gave you, didn't you?”

“Yes,” she said, “just the impression. Why did he soft-soap me, so much, both coming in and going out?”

I said, “Oh, Miss Jay, don't be so mean. He just wants to be polite to you. That's all right. That's a well-known technique to be polite to the secretary. Everybody knows that.”

“Oh yes, I know that,” she said. “But he's just a little too pollte. He's so intellectual. He tried to get off intellectual stuff on me. He had to tell me how intellectual you were. That it was your great mind that attracted him.”

I said, “Oh well, he said that same thing to me. I wanted to know what you thought, but I've got the same feeling about him. It's just a feeling. I don't know a thing about the man. But I wouldn't have him around if