"I think nothing," she sobbed, "except that I--I love you."
He fell to smoothing her hair, slowly, gently, patronisingly. His face was
composed and he was looking down at her trembling head and agitated
shoulders with an absent-minded smile. How easily this once dreaded crisis
had passed! How he had overestimated her! How he had underestimated
himself!
His glance and his thoughts soon fastened upon the copy of his newspaper
which she had thrown aside--_his_ newspaper indeed, his creation and
his creature, the epitome of his intellect and character, of his strength
and his weakness. Half a million circulation daily, three quarters of a
million on Sunday--how mighty as a direct influence upon the people! Its
clearness and vigour, its intelligence, its truth-like sophistry--how
mighty as an indirect influence upon the minds of other editors and of
public men! "Power--Success," he repeated to himself in an exaltation of
vanity and arrogance.
Marian lifted her head and, turning, put it against his knee. She reached
out for his hand. He began to speak at once in a low persuasive voice:
"Trust me, dear, can't you? You do not--have not been reading the paper
until recently. You are not interested in politics. There have been many
changes in the few last years.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277