Of course she knew that there was such a world, but she
had confused it with the world-that-drudges. She liked to hear Howard talk
about his world, but she thought that his enthusiasm blinded him to the
truth of its drudgery; and she often caught herself half regretting that he
had to work.
But that vast machine for the swift collecting and distributing of the news
of the world had opened her eyes, had made her see her lover and, through
him, his life, in a different aspect. She had accepted the supercilious,
thoughtless opinion of those about her that the newspaper is a mere
purveyor of inaccurate gossip. And while Howard had tried to show her his
profession as it was, he had only succeeded in convincing her that he
himself had an exalted view of it; a view which she thought creditable to
him but wide of the disagreeable truth.
On that trip down-town she had seen "the press" with the flaws reduced and
the merits looming. She had looked into those all-seeing eyes that watch
the councils of statesmen and the movements of nations and peoples, yet
also note the swing of a murderous knife in an alley of the slums. She had
heard that stentorian voice of Publicity, arousing the people of the earth
to apprehend, to reflect, to progress.
She had been proud of Howard for his appearance, for what he said and the
way he said it.
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