"Conventions. For instance, I'd love to tell you just how fine I think all this is that you're doing, and just how much I like and admire you. We've come to be real friends, haven't we? And, you see, I can be of some actual help. The breakfast was my suggestion, wasn't it? So you owe me something for that. Are you properly grateful?" "Try me." "Then, august and terrible sovereign, spare the life of my little friend Kathie." Hal drew back a bit. "I'm afraid you don't realize the situation." The Great American Pumess shot forth a little paw--such a soft, shapely, hesitant, dainty, appealing little paw--and laid it on Hal's hand. "Please," she said. "But, Esme,"--he began. It was the first time he had used that intimacy with her. Her eyes dropped. "We're partners, aren't we?" she said. "Of course." "Then you won't let them print it!" "If Miss Pierce goes rampaging around the streets--" "Please. For me,--partner." "One would have to be more than human, to say no to you," he returned, laughing a little unsteadily. "You're corrupting my upright professional sense of duty." "It can't be a duty to hold a friend up to ridicule, just for a little accident." "I'm not so sure," said Hal, again. "However, for the sake of our partnership, and if you'll promise to come again soon to tell us how to run the paper--" "I knew you'd be kind!" There was just the faintest pressure of the delicate paw, before it was withdrawn. The Great American Pumess was feeling the thrill of power over men and events. "I think I like the newspaper business. But I've got to be at my other trade now." "What trade is that?" "Didn't you know I was a little sister of the poor? When you've lost all your money and are ill, I'll come and lay my cooling hand on your fevered brow and bring wine jelly to your tenement." "Aren't you afraid of contagious diseases?" he asked anxiously. "Such places are always full of them." "Oh, they placard for contagion. It's safe enough. And I'm really interested. It's my only excuse to myself for living." "If bringing happiness wherever you go isn't enough--" "No! No!" She smiled up into his eyes. "This is still a business visit. But you may take me to my car." On his way back Hal stopped to tell Wayne that perhaps the Pierce story wasn't worth running, after all. Unease of conscience disturbed his work for a time thereafter. He appeased it by the excuse that it was no threat or pressure from without which had influenced his action. He had killed the item out of consideration for the friend of his friend. What did it matter, anyway, a bit of news like that? Who was harmed by leaving it out? As yet he was too little the journalist to comprehend that the influences which corrupt the news are likely to be dangerous in proportion as they are subtle.