I saw now that I had a slight chance of procuring an interview, and strange as it may seem I was beginning to like him again. He was entirely uncommon and the possessor of a face embroidered with lines from study and sorrow, and a composure that was calm but forceful. Ill at ease as I was I made up my mind to stick and see the thing through. A “scoop” like this for my editor meant more for me than I can explain on paper. I pretended to be moving for the door, but wasn’t; it was only another subterfuge--the forced weapon of a reporter. Such things are not meant to beguile; but they are a slight means of delusion. So unless you are adapted to the use of them do not apply for a reporter’s job. Professor Symonds slowly walked back from the window, which was not far, because the house was a cottage and the rooms small. He looked at me squarely, slightly pityingly, for I am sure he was sorry that one so young could be so bold. As for myself I was thinking that perhaps I should live to be an old, old lady--thin scrawny people generally do; but never should I forget with what pride and exultation I had received this assignment. It was first given to Mr. Tyler, our best reporter and our most vivid writer. He failed completely in his efforts to communicate with Professor Symonds, even after he had resorted to detective work. From him it descended step by step to me. Descended most describes the process, for I was a journalist just starting my career and this was the first important piece of work that I had received. Hence my resolution to remain immutable in my decision to stick for the information that my paper so desired. Previous to this affair the majority of my best literary efforts had suffered an evanescence into the world at large. Perhaps John, the janitor, knew of their whereabouts--he always emptied the waste-baskets. “So you wish me to talk for publication, do you; to lay the facts of my life open to the criticism of the public?” “No, I--I”---- “Well, I shall do nothing of the kind. The lives of myself and family are entirely my own affair, and no one need count on my giving the papers material with which to fill up their columns.” “But--but the affair was important.” “Important or not, it is mine and with me it shall die. It’s a shame, a shame I say, to send young girls to pry into one’s private life.” It was evident that this speech was from one who could suppress his feelings no longer. Nevertheless, I had grown hot and indignant at his words. At the same time I was becoming alarmed at the nearness of the door to me. This in a way prevented my pungent remarks from having the effect they otherwise would have had. “If I were allowed to choose my assignments, Professor Symonds, I assure you I should not have chosen this one.” This retort was, perhaps, a trifle impudent, considering the fair treatment I had at first received, but it was made without thought, and I was sorry as soon as I realized what I had said.