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Updated: May 22, 2025
Do you think I ought to return to him and apologize to him for the somewhat hasty and abrupt manner of speech I used just now?" I told him no I didn't know what might happen if he went back in there then and I persuaded him that Devore didn't expect any apology; and with that he seemed better satisfied and walked off.
There were a few others with whom DeVore had experienced similar difficulties, but most people, he had found, picked up meanings and concepts without difficulty even seemed to anticipate at times.
For ten minutes or so Devore, cursing softly to himself, cut and chopped and gutted his way through the major's introduction, and between slashing strokes made a war map of the Balkans in his scalp with his blue pencil. Then he lost patience altogether. "Here," he said to me, "you're not doing anything, are you?
And I'm not interested in what arrangements you make with them, or what arrangements they make with Central. Is that a simple enough order for you to understand?" "Yes, sir. I understand all right. But " "Good! I'm glad I managed to get at least one simple idea into your head." The spring in the chair twanged as Morely came forward, to poke his head at DeVore. "Now, get to work on it."
At that Devore either lost his head or else indignation made him reckless. Still half sitting, he kicked out at the wriggling bulk at his feet, and the toe of his shoe took Mink Satterlee in his chest. It was a puny enough kick; it didn't even shake Mink Satterlee loose from where he clung.
He placed the paper within the reach of his superior, who snatched at it, held it up for a moment, then dropped it to his desk. "Yes, I did. What can we do about it?" "Why," DeVore spread his hands slightly, "we'll have to comply." "That isn't what I meant, Idiot! How can we continue to receive the payments from Consolidated?" "I don't think we can, sir.
The pathos of the situation if you could call it that hit me with a jolt; but it hadn't hit Devore, that was plain. He saw only the annoying part of it. "What's he going to do?" I asked "assignments, or cover a route like the district men?" "Lord knows," said Devore.
He'll be a total loss as a reporter that's one prediction; and the other is that he'll have a hard time buying his provender and his toddies over at the Shawnee Club on the salary he'll draw down from the Evening Press." Devore was not such a very great city editor, as I know now in the light of fuller experience, but I must say that as a prophet he was fairly accurate.
Most of it was anonymous. I have kept it all, however, and I quote the following poem, which is rather nice: Passant, te voila sans abri: La flamme a ravage ton gite. Hier plus leger qu'un colibri; Ton esprit aujourd'hui s'agite, S'exhalant en gemissements Sur tout ce que le feu devore. Tu pleures tes beaux diamants?... Non, tes grands yeux les ont encore!
I ask you, gentlemen, what would have been the final result if Albert Sidney Johnston had lived?" Across the room from me I heard Devore give a hollow groan. His desk was backed right up against the cross partition, and the partition was built of thin pine boards and was like a sounding board in his ear. Devore was city editor. "Oh, thunder!" he said, half under his breath, "I'll be the goat!
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