Again the
phenomenon of the news-room, the individual faces calm but their tense
expressions and their swift motions making an impression of almost
irrational excitement.
"Why such haste?" asked Marian.
"Because the paper must be put to press. It must contain the very latest
news and it must also catch the mails; and the mail-trains do not wait."
They descended in the main elevator to the ground floor and then went down
a dark and winding staircase until they faced an iron door. Howard pushed
it open and they entered the press-room. Its temperature was blood-heat,
its air heavy and nauseating with the odours of ink, moist paper and oil,
its lights dim. They were in a gallery and below them on all sides were the
huge presses, silent, motionless, waiting.
Suddenly a small army of men leaped upon the mighty machines, scrambled
over them, then sprang back. With a tremendous roar that shook the entire
building the presses began to revolve, to hurl out great heaps of
newspapers.
"Those presses eat six hundred thousand pounds of paper and four tons of
ink a week," Howard shouted. "They can throw out two hundred thousand
complete papers an hour--papers that are cut, folded, pasted, and ready to
send away. Let us go before you are stifled.
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