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And so, calling a taxi, he drove out onto the west side where, in a dingy and
squalid neighborhood, the taxi stopped in front of a grimy unpainted three-story
brick building, from which a great deal of noise and dust were issuing. Jimmy
found the office on the second floor, after ascending a narrow, dark, and dirty
stairway. Jimmy's experience of manufacturing plants was extremely limited, but
he needed no experience as he entered the room to see that he was in a busy
office of a busy plant. Everything about the office was plain and rather dingy, but
there were a great many file clerks and typists and considerable bustling about.
After stating his business to a young lady who sat behind a switchboard, upon
the front of which was the word "Information," and waiting while she
communicated with an inner office over the telephone, he was directed in the
direction of a glass partition at the opposite end of the room--a partition in which
there were doors at intervals, and upon each door a name.
He had been told that Mr. Brown would see him, and rapping upon the door
bearing that name he was bid to enter, and a moment later found himself in the
presence of a middle-aged man whose every gesture and movement was charged
with suppressed nerve energy.
As Jimmy entered the man was reading a letter. He finished it quickly, slapped it
into a tray, and wheeled in his chair toward his caller.
"
"
Well?" he snapped, as Jimmy approached him.
I came in reply to your advertisement for a general manager," announced Jimmy
confidently.
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