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Updated: May 24, 2025
I did not usually listen to such people, but I was compelled to do so now, for they were all around me. "Paper third e'shen loss of the Sco-sha." The cry fell on me like a thunderbolt. An indescribable terror seized me. I felt paralysed and stood dead still. People were buying copies of the papers, and at first I made a feeble effort to do the same.
But as I passed through the streets, stunned, stupefied, perspiring, feeling as if I were running away from some malignant curse, the newsmen seemed to be pursuing me, for they were darting out from every street. "Paper third e'shen loss of the Sco-sha." Faster and faster I hurried along. But the awful cry was always ringing in my ears, behind, before, and on either side.
But my voice was faint; the newsman did not hear me and he went flying past. "Paper third e'shen reported loss of the Sco-sha." After that I dared not ask for a paper. Literally I dared not. I dared not know the truth. I dared not see the dreadful fact in print. So I began to hurry home.
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