He caught her in a quick, stirred embrace.
“What do you know about children?” he mocked. And then, under his breath—“Darling, darling, I want them too. But I shall be a poor father—and husband.”
And then again they fell silent and in the glow of the fire every now and again he pressed his lips to the hollow of her hand or held her hand against his cheek. They were very happy.
Mrs. Hubbell was quite forgotten. She was sitting in her living room just then, before the spinet desk in the corner, reading and methodically sorting letters and placing them in drawers and pigeon-holes. There was one letter she hesitated over. Once she made a gesture as if to tear it across. Then she reconsidered and placed it in the desk again.
CHAPTER VII
THE Journal was making money. It was February and the hopes based on the election had already been fulfilled. Circulation had increased and with it had come modest advertisers. Two extra rooms across the hall, one boldly labelled Circulation Department and one Advertising, were in charge of efficient looking young men, and the original editorial rooms were crowded by desks for two new reporters. Bob Brotherton talked boastingly of soon doing their own printing, and though The Journal was still an undersized little sheet, comparing queerly in size with the other dailies, its editorials were more often quoted in other cities than were those of other local papers.
Langley was trying his skill as a writer to its utmost in those editorials. There were no serious political issues in the city and he turned his comment with a great pleasure to national affairs and the larger political and industrial situation. What he said, being actuated by no partisanship, was really the product of deep thought and experience and keen and true. Men began to read his comments and finding good thinking and conclusive evidence kept on reading them. At first they did it warily, expecting at any moment to be plunged into Bolshevism, but though Langley refused to fear that current bogie he recognized it in such a way that the potency and sting went out of it. He began to reassure his public by the method of assuring them that issues were not too terrible to be faced. There was a new note in his writing which took him out of the rank of merely caviling radical and put him with the constructionists.
Horatia thrilled at the new vigor in the paper. They regarded her as a mascot in the office. With her luck had come, as Bob said, and the old reporters and the new competed for chances to help her and to do things for her. Unless Langley was with her, when they withdrew before her absorption in him.
They had not announced an engagement, although the office force saw that the chief was as devoted to Horatia as they were, and perhaps drew its own conclusions. But Jim and Horatia gave them nothing definite to go upon. That decision had been reached after Maud and Langley had met and Maud with instinctive wisdom had pressed home to him Horatia’s youth and inexperience and impetuosity.
“I’m sure that you might be very happy,” said Maud, trying to be tactful. “But surely she can wait a little. Till she knows her own mind. It’s for life.” Maud looked sweetly sentimental. “You tell her how unwise it is to rush into such serious matters, Mr. Langley.”