American fiction -- 20th century; Divorce -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Rich people -- Fiction
"Indisputably," said the clergyman. "In the constant faith that our
tolerance will work for improvement."
"Ah, but the newspapers are worse than ever," exclaimed Mrs. Wilson,
with a sigh. "One has to wade through so much for so little. I read
them scrupulously, because, if I do not, I'm sure to miss something
which I would like to see. That sounds inconsistent. But why doesn't
somebody establish a really first-class newspaper?"
"Because a newspaper must be first of all a successful business
enterprise in order to be able to exist," responded her brother. "It
is a question of dollars and cents. All that will come presently. And
we are really improving all the time. Just think of what a large and
complicated industry a modern newspaper establishment has grown to be."
He spoke as though he saw and wished to bring before his hearers' eyes
the towering, mammoth homes of the press in all our large cities, the
enforced outcome of the ever-increasing popular demand for the world's
news. "Come, Paul," he said, putting his arm through his son's, "since
Mr. Prentiss will not join us in a cigar we will leave these good
people to their own devices, and go back to our work."
Paul, with a pocket full of documents and with the obnoxious newspaper
in his hand, had reached the door of his father's house just as Lucille
and her betrothed were alighting from a carriage. Lured by his goading
remarks they had followed him within and into his father's library,
where at a safe distance he had vouchsafed his cousin glimpses of her
tiara-crowned figure and read aloud choice extracts until the spirit
had moved him to pass through the dividing door between the two
establishments in search of his aunt. He had left home with the idea
of an hour's confabulation with his father over certain schemes in
which they were jointly interested--a frequent habit of his late in the
evening. Mr. Carleton Howard never went to bed before one, and was
invariably to be found after eleven in his library reading or
cogitating, and always prepared at that quiet time to give his keenest
intelligence to the issues presented to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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