Let's see, it's five o'clock in the morning in London now. They've
been having it hot there. I'll ask about the weather."
Howard dictated to the man at the London wire: "Roberts, London. How is the
weather? Howard."
In less than ten minutes the cable-man handed Howard a typewritten slip
reading: "_News-Record_, New York, Howard: Thermometer 97 our office
now. Promises hottest day yet. Roberts."
"I never before realised how we have destroyed distance," said Mrs.
Carnarvon.
"I don't think any one but a newspaper editor completely realises it,"
Howard answered. "As one sits here night after night, sending messages far
and wide and receiving immediate answers, he loses all sense of space. The
whole world seems to be in his anteroom."
"I begin to see fascination in this life of yours." Marian's face showed
interest to enthusiasm. "This atmosphere tightens one's nerves. It seems to
me that in the next moment I shall hear of some thrilling happening."
"It's listening for the first rumour of the 'about to happen' that makes
newspaper-men so old and yet so young, so worn and yet so eager. Every
night, every moment of every night, we are expecting it, hoping for some
astounding news which it will test our resources to the utmost to present
adequately.
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