Leroy Neiman Chicago Board of Trade

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bothering how things worked. It was how people worked that intrigued him.
Further along the row Soll leaned across to his uncle and dropped a small coil of film in his lap.
‘This belongs to you,’ he said sweetly.
‘What is it?’ said Dibbler.
‘Well I thought I’d have a quick look at the click before it got shown‑‘
‘You diddidn’t trust me? That wounds me, Soll. I’m really wounded. Whatever happened to integrity round here?’
‘I think you probably sold it to someone, Uncle.’
‘I’m really hurt,’ said Dibbler.
‘But you didn’t keep your promise, Uncle.’
‘That’s got nothing to do with it. That’s just business?’ said Dibbler.‘And what did I find, in the middle of the burning city scene, but five minutes showing nothing but a plate of spare ribs in Harga’s Special Peanut Sauce. I know why, of course. I just want to know why this.’Dibbler grinned guiltily. ‘The way I see it,’ he said, ‘if one little quick picture can make people want to go and buy things, just think what five minutes’ worth could do.’Soll stared at him. .‘I’m really hurt by this,’ said Dibbler. ‘You didn’t trust me. Your own uncle. After I gave you my solemn promise not to try anything again, you