She began on the affair of the Ex-Governor. Why did not Cowan and O'Rourke and the others use their knowledge against him? The answer to that was simple. They would lose their jobs. Karner and Billings were friends. But this did not satisfy Yetta. They argued it out for half an hour. Nobody saw the defects and limitations of journalism more clearly than Cowan, and yet he was utterly loyal. "If my son doesn't turn out a newspaper man, I'll disown him," he said emphatically. "Now don't you go and get sore on newspaper work because it isn't all honest. It's one whole lot better than when I began. The Press is the hope of Democracy, and it is also its measure. Of course Karner's ethics are a bit queer. But no crookeder than the people will stand for. He'd be honest if it paid. "The people can have just as good and clean a paper as they really want. They get better and more democratic ones to-day than they did twenty years ago, and when they want one that is really straight, they'll get that. "Of course it's bad if you want to look at it that way. It's a compromise game. But there isn't any class of people in the country who are doing more for progress than this bunch of cynical newspaper men. They are the real patriots. Every new recruit pushes the flag a little farther forward. But you've got to make up your mind to compromise." "I haven't had to do it yet," Yetta said. "Perhaps not yet. But sooner or later you will have to, if you're going to play the newspaper game." "That's the trouble with you people," Yetta exclaimed, as if she suddenly saw a light, "you call it a game. I'm not playing with life. I've got to consider myself and my work serious. I won't compromise. If it's the rule of the game--why, I'll quit playing it." The surprising thing was that she was not asked to compromise. Mr. Brace seemed to take very little interest in what she wrote. When he spoke to her about it, it was to make some technical suggestion about the use of "caps" or "italics." No party Socialist could have accused her contributions of lack of orthodoxy. She was giving her readers the straight gospel. Day after day Isadore read them and wondered. Mrs. Karner also wondered. Coming home late one night, she encountered her husband in the hallway; he had just shown out some friends who had been playing poker. She swept by him with a curt "Good night." He was a little drunk. But she stopped halfway up the stairs. "I say, Bert. Explain to me the mystery of Yetta Rayefsky. Her column this afternoon is straight Socialism. What does it mean? Has a ray of light penetrated into the subterranean gloom of your office? Has the editorial staff fallen in love with her?" Karner had been winning and was in good spirits. "That's so. I've forgotten to thank you for suggesting her. She's a gold mine." "Yes. But how can _The Star_ stand the tone of decency she gives it?"