I Nearly Missed It
For four years, with trembling hands have I opened my paper—only to dash it with fury into the grate as my eyes caught the hated word. I changed my paper until I had to change my stationer.
One day I bought the Parish Magazine of St. Sous Without. Could it be possible? My lips were dry, so that I could not turn the pages. I sucked an acidulated drop. Like a Bank clerk counting Bradburys and Fishers, or like the autumn, I turned the leaves, and scanned them with a feverish zeal. It was not there!