He laughed awkwardly.
"Yes, here's what I've done"—he handed her a copy of The
Nine-Tenths—"and it's very wonderful."
She gave a strange, short laugh again—excitement, exultation—and held the paper as if it were a living thing.
"This … The Nine-Tenths … oh!… for the working people…. Let me see!"
She went to the light, spread the paper and eagerly read. Then she glanced back a moment and saw his worn face and the weary droop of his back.
"Say—you're dead tired. Sit down. You don't mind the bed, do you?"
He smiled softly.
"I don't! I am pretty much done up." And he sank down, and let his hands droop between his knees.
Sally read, and then suddenly turned to him.
"This editorial is—it's just a ripper."