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Marrineal uttered no protest, though the unlucky Haring beat his elegantly waistcoated breast and uttered profane if subdued threats of resigning, which were for effect only; for The Patriot's circulation continued to grow and the fact to which every advertising expert clings as to the one solid hope in a vaporous calling, is that advertising follows circulation.
"What of that? You think it's right. Therefore, go ahead. Why quit a line of policy just because it obliges your employes? Don't be over-conscientious, son." "I've suspected for some time that the political news was being adroitly manipulated against the administration. Has Marrineal tried to ring you in on that?" "No; and he won't." "Why not?" "He knows that, in the main, I'm a Laird man.
The paper will have set me on the road; I'll do the rest. Reserving only the right to determine certain very broad policies, I purpose to turn over the control of The Patriot to you." "To me!" said Banneker, thunderstruck. "Provided I am elected governor," said Marrineal. "Which depends largely yes, almost entirely on the elimination of Judge Enderby."
Young Marrineal did rather better than might have been expected, thanks to the presence at his birth-cradle of a robust little good-fairy named Self-Preservation, who never gets half the credit given to more picturesque but less important gift-bringers. He grew up with an instinctive sense of when to stop. Sometimes he stopped inopportunely.
It's quite within the possibilities." "After the way The Patriot and Mr. Marrineal himself have flayed the ring?" exclaimed Io. "It isn't possible. How could he so go back on himself?" Edmonds turned his fine and serious smile upon her. "Mr. Marrineal's guiding principle of politics and journalism is that the public never remembers.
Marrineal did not answer, thereby giving his factotum uncomfortably to reflect that he really must not expect payment for information and the information also. "I guess he'll bear watching." Ives wound up with his favorite philosophy.
Territon doesn't leave her husband now for McLaurin," opined Marrineal, "we are in a difficult position. I happen to know her and I very much doubt " "Doubt not at all, d-doubting Tertius. The very fact of our publishing the story will force her hand. It's an achievement, that story. No other p-paper has a line of it." "Not more than one other would touch it, in its present form," said Banneker.
'Next Time Ask the Barkeep Why He Doesn't Drink, and, 'Mighty Elephants Like Rum and Are Chained Slaves." "You'll find more moralizing on booze if you look farther. It's one of the subjects they talk most about." "'The Sardine is Dead: Therefore More Comfortable Than You, Mr. Straphanger," read Marrineal. "Go up in the rush-hour L any day and you'll hear that editorial with trimmings."
Doubtless he would find a summons on his desk. None was there. Perhaps Marrineal would come to him. He waited. Nothing. Taking up the routine of the day, he turned to his proofs, with a view to laying out his schedule. The top one was his editorial on the strikers' cause. Across it was blue-penciled the word "Killed." Banneker snatched up the morning's issue. The editorial was not there.
The deadly suspicion of the truth struck in upon the guest of honor; they, his friends, were going because they could no longer take part in honoring him. His mind groped, terrified and blind, among black shadows. Marrineal, for once allowing discomposure to ruffle his imperturbability, rose to check the exodus. "Gentlemen! One moment, if you please. As soon as "
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