'Now look here!' he cried. 'You—Earwaker; suppose you sent conscience to the devil, and set yourself to please Runcorn by increasing the circulation of your paper by whatever means. You would flourish, undoubtedly. In a short time you would be chief editor, and your pockets would burst with money. But what about your peace of mind? What about happiness?'
'Why, I'm disposed to agree with Peak,' answered the journalist. 'If I could take that line, I should be a happier man than conscientiousness will ever make me.'
Malkin swelled with indignation.
'You don't mean it! You are turning a grave argument into jest!—Where's my hat? Where the devil is my hat? Send for me again when you are disposed to talk seriously.'
He strode towards the door, but Earwaker arrested him with a shout.
'You're leaving your pipe!'
'So I am. Where is it?—Did I tell you where I bought this pipe?'
'No. What's the wood?'
On the instant Malkin fell into a cheerful vein of reminiscence. In five minutes he was giving a rapturous description of tropical scenes, laughing joyously as he addressed now one now the other of his companions.
'I hear you have a mind to see those countries, Mr. Peak,' he said at length. 'If you care for a travelling companion—rather short-tempered, but you'll pardon that—pray give me the preference. I should enjoy above all things to travel with a man of science.'