McQuade nodded to the typewriter, who rose and left the private office.

The three men sat down, in what might be described as a one-two-three attitude: domination, tacit acceptance of this domination, and servility.
"Do you know Richard Warrington, the playwriter ?" "That snob?
Yes, I know who he is, and I'd like to punch his head for him, too." McQuade smiled.

This manifest rancor on Bolles' part would make things easier than he thought.
"Well, listen.

I've just been tipped that big things are going to happen this fall.

That fool Donnelly has queered himself, and is making a muddle of everything he touches.