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Updated: April 30, 2025
Was not the fragrance of her presence, the soft compulsion of her gaze, even the delirious frill of muslin at her wrist, to be set down to the credit of his chosen art? Had he not, pondering obscurely upon "attention-compelling" copy and lay-out and type-face, in a corner of the Grey-Matter office, contributed to the triumphant prosperity and grace of this unconscious beneficiary?
He knew his disadvantages in literary conversation, for he had gone to an excellent college where glee clubs and theatricals had left him little time for reading. But still he was a lover of good books, though he knew them chiefly by hearsay. He was twenty-five years old, employed as a copywriter by the Grey-Matter Advertising Agency.
Gilbert, it's my duty to inform you that I intend to take my advertising out of the hands of the Grey-Matter Agency." Aubrey's heart sank. He had feared a catastrophe of this kind from the first.
After the natural recuperation necessary on the 12th of November, he had been re-absorbed by the Grey-Matter Advertising Agency, with whom he had been connected for several years, and where his sound and vivacious qualities were highly esteemed. It was in the course of drumming up post-war business that he had swung so far out of his ordinary orbit as to call on Roger Mifflin.
But when "grey-matter" that composes this thinking mechanism becomes diseased, and the cold touch of death stills the action of fibre and vesicle, what light can our teachers pour upon the future of that coagulated substance where once reigned hope, ambition, love, or hate? Those grey granules that were memory, become oblivion. Certainly physiology has grown to giant stature since the days of St.
"He's full of grey-matter." He tapped his forehead, and stepping across to the common bookshelf indicated the back of a text book on advanced mechanics. "That's one of his little efforts," he said. Lettigne followed the other's finger. "Good night!" he ejaculated.
The train drew into Broad Street station at ten o'clock, and Aubrey followed the bookseller through the bustling terminus and round the City Hall plaza. Mifflin seemed to know his way, but Philadelphia was comparatively strange to the Grey-Matter solicitor.
Roger Mifflin, the proprietor of "Parnassus at Home," looked up, and the visitor saw that he had keen blue eyes, a short red beard, and a convincing air of competent originality. "It is," said Mr. Mifflin. "Anything I can do for you?" "My name is Aubrey Gilbert," said the young man. "I am representing the Grey-Matter Advertising Agency.
"Didn't know you had it in you, Fraser," marvelled one officer. "By crackey!" added a second. "How you can slug!" The surgeon sighed. "No one has ever understood Robert," said he, "but women, critters, and kids." And now Matthews' blood was up, and under his sloping forehead the grey-matter was bubbling and boiling like the soup in the sutler's pot.
If I'm wrong, you you can tell your father to take his advertising away from the Grey-Matter Company. I can't say more than that." And, to do him justice, he couldn't. It was the supreme sacrifice. She let him out of the front door without another word. Aubrey Determines to give Service that's Different Seldom has a young man spent a more desolate afternoon than Aubrey on that Sunday.
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