i see bartha gave you cold tongue for supper. hey, wait a minute!
how is dear old j.j. by the way?
if it were that easy, you wouldn't find an empty phone booth for the next two hours.
talk of a wake! - they'd club each other to cater the affair for free!
by the way, did i hear something about j.j. giving you the flit gun treatment - he shut you out of the column. why?
and, instead, he printed his heel in your face?
he has lost interest in sidney.
like most of the human race, sidney, i'm bored. i'd go a mile for a chuckle.
he is unembarrassed at sidney's all-too-accurate estimate.
three. even four.
then you're really washed up with hunsecker?
a fine, fat dirty item. who's it about?
this does get a reaction, a flicker of genuine interest. elwell reads the item for a second time.
mmm. trouble is i can't think of any good reason why i should print anything you give me. i can't even think of a bad reason.
his eyes go from the magazine to sidney; he gets the point alright.
i'm not an unreasonable man.
friends call me otis - sometimes tricky otis.
right!
consternation reigns.
i hate j.j. -- but not that much at this moment.
havana! that's where we met!
hurry back.
that's right!