“May I?” said the man. “Of course,” Tim finally answered. “Don’t they give you an office?” Tim laughed. “They’re not even giving me a job past Friday.” And then it all came out in a nervous, mortifying rush: his graduation from Fordham; his arrival here in June; his summer of rewrites on the Star’s city desk; his hope for a job on Capitol Hill; the chance to cover McCarthy’s wedding. Realizing that the man’s suit was as fine as his physique, Tim asked: “You weren’t a guest there, were you?” It was the most foolish question he could have posed; if this man had been inside the Washington Club,
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