And I seized my pillow.
“You are not meaty,” exclaimed the reporter.
“May I inquire what the meaning of this strange expression is?” I said, frowning; “I don’t speak American fluently.”
“It means,” he replied, “that there is very little to be got out of you.”
“Are you going?” I said, smiling.
“Well, I guess I am.”
“Good-night.”
“Good-night.”
I bolted the door, turned out the gas, and “re-retired.”
“Poor fellow,” I thought; “perhaps he relied on me to supply him with material for a column. I might have chatted with him. After all, these reporters have invariably been kind to me. I might as well have obliged him. What is he going to do?”