I feel hurt.
"Then write the article yourself, since you are so clever."
"It's not my business; I'm a painter. Begin it all over again."
I obey. More sheets and a further reading by Reymond.
"This time it's not quite so bad. Suppose we go over it word for word."
At two in the morning we are still at it. Our aim is to set forth nothing but facts, and at the same time to thrill our readers.
Wednesday, 6th January.
It's all very well to play at being journalists, and to spend the night in writing, but this morning we must all be ready for drill at half-past seven. The two collaborators are snoring away. Varlet wakes us by walking over our bodies.
"Come now, up! you two journalists."
The journalists refuse to budge.