 Why did Orison think that Dink had a European background?
"You're worth more'n that, just to jazz up the decor," Mr. Wanji said. "That will be most satisfactory, Mr. Wanji," Orison said. Mr. Wanji grabbed Orison's right hand and shook it with athletic vigor. Beside them was a double-decked "In" and "Out" basket. This laissez-faire policy of Taft Bank's might explain why she'd been selected from the Treasury Department's secretarial pool to apply for work here, she thought. An odd business for a Federal Mata Hari, Orison thought, reading a nonsense story into a microphone for an invisible audience. As though they were members of a ballet-troupe, these gentlemen whipped off their hats with a single motion as Orison stepped aboard the elevator. Orison nodded bemused acknowledgment of their gesture, and got off in the lobby vowing never to put a penny into this curiousest of banks. Orison sighed, finished her tuna salad on whole-wheat, then went back upstairs to her lonely desk and her microphone. By five, Orison had finished the book, reading rapidly and becoming despite herself engrossed in the saga of Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit. "Of a sort," Monitor J-12 agreed. Orison briefed her pillow on the Earmuffs, on her task of reading to a microphone, and on the generally mimsy tone of the William Howard Taft National Bank and Trust Company. Orison flung the shoe and the pillow under her bed, and resolved to write Washington for permission to make her future reports by registered mail.
 His manners
 His accent  The languages he speaks  His manners  His physique