Mister Milton greets Al in the lobby of the Cornbelt Trust Company.
Later, in Milton’s office, Al and Milton have a talk. Milton lights Al’s cigar.
“No, conditions are none too good right now, Al,” says Milton. “Considerable uncertainty in the business picture: strikes, taxes still ruinous… You like that cigar?”
“Oh, yes, Mister Milton,” says Al. “Fine.”
“Hard to get those during the war,” says Milton. “but they’re coming in regularly from Havana now. Oh, things will readjust themselves in time. We want you back here with us here, Al.”
“Well, that’s very nice of you, Mister Milton,” says Al. “but – I noticed Steve sitting at my old desk. I wouldn’t want to push him out.”
“Steve will stay right there,” says Milton. “You’re moving up! What would you say to being vice president in charge of small loans, at a salary of twelve thousand dollars a year? What would you say to that, huh?”
“I’d uh -” begins Al, “I’d say it can’t be true.”