He tidied up the somewhat washed-out shabby tie, clutching a small, densely written slip of paper.
It was written overnight by his accountant Elsey for him.
Honestly, Elsey wrote it too formally, and besides, the guy was at work yesterday, so he probably didn't go to see the play.
Obviously, this was made based on the newspaper summary.
Horace had indeed gone to see it.
He wouldn't be reading from the original text, but would use the kind of plain language that dock workers could understand to explain those complicated principles in human language.
"Mr. Dibico spoke very well."
Horace's voice was airy, tinged with the cunning of a businessman, which also brought a smile to Dibico's face.
It seemed Mr. Horace hadn't taken to heart the light insult he received yesterday, or maybe he didn't understand Dibico's sarcasm at all.
That was when the stage play ended.
