The newspaper seller was a clean, neat man, of about forty with a rather serious, unsmiling face. He didn't speak much to the customers or to his helpers, but when he did he spoke slowly and quietly, as if to himself. He believed in efficiency, not conversation. And this was how the office workers, rushing to catch their trains, preferred it. It had been a good day. Lunch-time had been warm and sunny, and many people had bought magazines to read outside with their sandwiches. Now it was cold and rainy, and people wanted an evening paper for a cheerless journey ahead and a dull evening indoors. At 6:30, with the main rush over, he started to collect the money together and count it. Then he left the stand and went home. It was the assistant's turn this evening to look after it till eight o'clock, when it would be packed away for the night. His large white Mercedes was in the private car park of a large prefix = st1 /GovernmentBuilding. He'd parked there for six months, pretending to be part of a heating firm working in the building. They would find out about him soon, and he'd have to park in a garage again, which was annoying. Their charges were far too high. A couple of junior clerks, regular customers, happened to see him getting into his car. "Must be a lot of money in papers, eh?" one of them shouted. He just smiled coldly in reply, and got into the car, placing the bags of money on the floor. He thought about the clerks on the way home. Like the majority of his customers, despite their white shirts and dark suits, they probably made in a week as much as he could make in a good day. It seems unlikely that the newspaper seller would be the sort of man who would    .
be a cheerful companion try to cheat a customer earn a great deal of money trust his assistant much