job analyst,” said Mr. Ringers. His keen eyes bored into mine. “And I suppose,” he said, “that while discussing jobs, you wouldn’t object if the subject of religion came up?” I felt my face turning scarlet. “Oh, yes,” he said. “We know about the proselytizing you’ve been doing upstairs. And I might add that I consider your kind of work considerably more important than manufacturing chocolates.” He smiled at the relief on my face. “I don’t know any reason, Andrew, why you can’t do both. If you can help me to run a better factory while getting recruits for God’s kingdom, why I’ll be satisfied.”
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