“Well, I have seen men in the Tombs, accused of murder, though they had not been convicted yet.”
“Oh, how perfectly fascinating! I must get papa to let me be a reporter.”
“About this wedding,” began Larry. “Could you——”
“Oh, don’t let’s talk about weddings,” interrupted the girl. “They’re horrid, stupid things. Tell me something about what you report. And to think I’ve seen a real reporter, just as I’ve always wanted to.”
Larry agreed with her statement about weddings being stupid affairs, but he felt he was sent to get an account of one, and not to talk about himself. He was a little uncertain how to proceed.
“Were you ever at a fire?” the girl went on.
“Several times,” replied Larry. “What is the bride’s name, if you please?”
“Did the walls fall and crush anyone?” asked Larry’s questioner, paying no attention to what he said.
“I think so. Can you tell me the groom’s name?”
“Were you ever in an explosion, Mr. Reporter?”