Every acquaintance whom he met stopped him with the same question in slightly different words.
"Have you heard?" and so forth.
Every intimate friend he encountered asked:
"How does Mrs. Rothsay bear it?" or—
"What on earth ever took the governor out there?"
To all questions the Iron King gave curt answers that discouraged discussion of the subject. He walked on, noticing that the stores and offices of the city were being festooned with mourning, and that notwithstanding the severity of the storm the street corners were occupied by groups talking excitedly of the fatal news.
He went into the editorial rooms of all the city newspapers and wished and attempted to dictate to the proprietors the manner in which they should write of the tragic event which was then in the minds and on the tongues of all persons.
As he spent an hour on the average at each office, it was late in the winter afternoon when he got home. It was not yet dark, however, and he was surprised to see a man servant engaged in closing the shutters.
He entered and demanded severely why the servant shut the windows before night.
The old man looked nervous and distressed, and answered vaguely: