"Very well, then; I get out," he replied, turning on his heel, almost smilingly.
The voice of the managing editor had risen high above the smaller noises of the office, and as Hartley walked to his dusty old desk and took up his hat and somewhat tattered gloves there was a moment of unbroken silence. He stood at the door and looked back. Timidly and nervously the busy typewriters behind the little partitions started to tinkle out their doleful staccato again. The managing editor sat, half turned in his pivot chair, looking through the door after Hartley in amazement. Then he swore at him lustily, and declaring before all that was holy that it would do him good to go out and starve, he snorted the burden of his rage from his mind and savagely commanded Daisy Dineen to give him a match.
And that was the manner in which John Hartley left the services of the United News Bureau for all time.
CHAPTER XI
THE STONIER UPLANDS
So avid of these earthly crumbs of praise,
Behold, how in her need,
From door to door of fame she crawls and prays
One crust to glut her greed.
John Hartley, "The Mendicant."
Upward through illusion and onward through error, that is life.—"The Silver Poppy."