As Long As I Live by Emilie Loring

Author:Emilie Loring [Loring, Emilie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2021-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

xiv

Tilted back in his office chair, Craig Lamont frowned thoughtfully at the single yellow rose in a slim crystal vase on his desk and then at Janvers, seated opposite, whose face was as red as the carnation in his lapel, whose prominent eyes made him think of the glassies with which he and Carl had played as boys. Now they snapped with excitement. He answered the Bus Line owner’s question;

“Sure, we know Miss Crofton’s work. It’s good.”

“Then why don’t you put her on my stuff?”

“We haven’t needed her, have we? You’ve said yourself that our copy was bringing home the bacon, and it will bring more. I’ve been traveling about the country that last two weeks solely on your business. What’s started you after her? Wait a minute.”

He answered the phone.

“All right, Miss Otis. Tell him I’ll be at liberty soon.” He said to the man scowling at him, “My secretary just reported that there’s a space-salesman waiting to talk over your new ad with me.”

“Tell him to wait. I want to settle this question now. Do I get the commercial artist I want on my stuff, or don’t I?”

“Sure, you get whoever you want.” Craig Lamont’s eyes narrowed. “How did you hear of Joan Crofton?”

Janvers straightened his tie and threw back his shoulders.

“Just lunched with her at T Wharf.”

“Lunched with J—her? Alone?”

“Now I ask you—what chance would I have to meet a girl like that? She’s class. Bard phoned me that he was taking her there to lunch—seeing-Boston stuff, and wouldn’t I happen along. He knew she’d be interested to meet a man who’d made good.”

So Phil Bard was the black in the wood-pile, Lamont thought. He was hell-bent to get the Janvers account and he was using the lure of Joan’s vital charm to snare the taxi driver whose yen for youth and beauty was common talk.

Janvers rested his chin on his hands clasped on the crook of his cane and confessed bitterly;

“I got my faith in the loyalty of women knocked out of me years ago, but I’ll bet that girl’s the type who’d stand by a man she married even if she thought he never would rise in the world. What eyes!”

Lustrous, was the word for them, Craig told himself then was furious that he had let his thoughts stray from the subject at hand. He suggested crisply;

“Meanwhile the space-salesman is waiting.”

Janvers rose with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, all right, all right. But you’re to get Miss Crofton on my ads—see? If you can’t,” he threatened darkly— “Well, she’s the first-string artist at the Bard Agency. I’ll take my business there.”

Lamont disciplined a furious urge to crack the head of his best paying account against the wall and agreed suavely;

“We can fix that. Of course I don’t know how much work Miss Crofton has on hand nor how much she knows about bus travel.”

“She doesn’t know anything about it, she says, but she’s going to.”

Janvers brought his fist down on the desk with a force that set its brass fittings tapping.

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