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Updated: June 8, 2025
He was anxious to hurry his progress now that he had him. It was not long after Eugene was seated in his advertising managerial chair that he saw how things lay. His men, when he gathered them in conference, complained that they were fighting against falling circulations. "You can talk all you want, Mr. Witla," said one of his men gloomily, "but circulation and circulation only is the answer.
"In spite of the fact that I like you personally, Witla and every man owes a little something to friendship it can't be worked out in business, though I have been slowly coming to the conclusion that perhaps, after all, you aren't just the ideal man for this place. You're too emotional, I fancy too erratic. White has been trying to tell me that for a long time, but I wouldn't believe it.
Why, Witla, I want to tell you one little fact in connection with that organization which will illustrate everything else which might be said in connection with it before I came here! They were wasting twenty thousand dollars a year on ink alone.
The "piggy-wiggy Eugene Witla" expression irritated her. It sounded as though she might be in love with him. She came out after a moment with a glad smile on her face and approached with every show of good feeling, but Miss Whitmore could sense opposition. "So this is Mrs. Witla," she exclaimed, kissing her. "I'm delighted to know you. I have always wondered what sort of a girl Mr.
Dale knew now that her greatest struggle was before her. Her several contemplated moves consisted first, in going to see Mrs. Witla, unknown to Suzanne and Eugene, learning what she knew of how things were and what she would advise. This really did no good, unless the fact that it fomented anew the rage and grief of Angela, and gave Mrs.
"Do you remember the first time when you came to play tennis with me?" he asked. "Yes." "Do you know I felt a strange vibration before your coming and all during your playing. Did you?" "Yes." "What is that, Suzanne?" "I don't know." "Don't you want to know?" "No, no, Mr. Witla, not now." "Mr. Witla?" "It must be so." "Oh, Suzanne!" "Let's just think," she pleaded, "it is so beautiful."
I will drive you over to Three Rivers, if you wish. Why not be reasonable, now, and avoid a scene? She isn't here. You couldn't have her if she were. The people I have employed will prevent that. If you make trouble, you will simply be arrested and then the newspapers will have it. Why not be reasonable now, Mr. Witla, and go on back? You have everything to lose.
She sent him registered notes to be signed for, addressed to Henry Kingsland and directed to the post office at Speonk. Eugene was not known there as Witla and easily secured these missives, which were usually very guarded in their expressions and concerned appointments the vaguest, most mysterious directions, which he understood.
"Oh!" she looked into his eyes and dreamed. "But we must be careful," he cautioned. "We musn't do anything rash." "I won't," said Suzanne. "And I won't, of course," he replied. They paused again while he watched her. "I might make friends with Mrs. Witla," she observed, after a time. "She likes me, doesn't she?" "Yes," said Eugene.
Witla, I think we must be something alike in some ways. That's just the way I feel." "How do you know how I feel?" "I can tell by your voice," she said. "Can you, really?" "Why, yes. Why shouldn't I?" "What a strange girl you are!" he said thoughtfully. "I don't think I understand you quite." "Why, why, am I so different from everyone else?" "Quite, quite," he said; "at least to me.
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