"I suppose it's to tell me not to annoy him with any more of my attempts,"
he thought. "Well, anyway, I've had the benefit of the work. I'll try a
novel next."
"Take a seat," said Mr. Malcolm with an absent nod. "Just a moment, if you
please."
On a chair beside him was the remnant of what had been a huge up-piling of
newspapers--the exchanges that had come in during the past twenty-four
hours. The Exchange Editor had been through them and Mr. Malcolm was
reading "to feel the pulse of the country" and also to make sure that
nothing of importance had been overlooked.
On the floor were newspapers by the score, thrown about tumultuously. Mr.
Malcolm would seize a paper from the unread heap, whirl it open and send
his glance and his long pointed nose tearing down one column and up
another, and so from page to page. It took less than a minute for him to
finish and filing away great sixteen page dailies. A few seconds sufficed
for the smaller papers. Occasionally he took his long shears and with a
skilful twist cut out a piece from the middle of a page and laid it and the
shears upon the table with a single motion.
"Now, Mr. Howard." Malcolm sent the last paper to increase the chaos on the
floor and faced about in his revolving chair.
Pages:
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94