"Oh, I rarely come here--a few hours a week," Howard replied. "On this
floor the editorial writers work." He opened a door leading to a private
hall. There were five small rooms. In each sat a coatless man, smoking and
writing. One was Segur, and Howard called to him.
"Are you too busy to look after Mrs. Carnarvon and Miss Trevor for a few
minutes? I must go downstairs."
Segur gave some "copy" to a boy who handed him a bundle of proofs and
rushed away down a narrow staircase. Howard descended in the elevator, and
Segur, who had put on his coat, sat talking to the two women as he looked
through the proofs, glancing at each narrow strip, then letting it drop to
the floor.
"You don't mind my working?" he asked. "I have to look at these things to
see if there is any news that calls for editional attention. If I find
anything and can think an editorial thought about it, I write it; and if
Howard is in the humour, perhaps the public is permitted to read it."
"Is he severe?" asked Mrs. Carnarvon.
"The 'worst ever,'" laughed Segur. "He is very positive and likes only a
certain style and won't have anything that doesn't exactly fit his ideas.
He's easy to get along with but difficult to work for."
"I imagine his positiveness is the secret of his success.
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