“No. Because they printed what I wrote.”
“The Sphere’s ways are not our ways,” pronounced Mr. Gordon primly. “It’s a fundamental difference in standards.”
“I can see that.”
“Oh, you can, can you?” chuckled the other. “But it’s true that we have no opening here.”
(The Ledger never did have an “opening”; but it managed to wedge in a goodly number of neophytes, from year to year, ninety per cent of whom were automatically and courteously ejected after due trial. Mr. Gordon performed a surpassing rataplan upon his long-suffering thumb-joint and wondered if this queer and direct being might qualify among the redeemable ten per cent.)
“I can wait.” (They often said that.) “For a while,” added the youth thoughtfully.
“How long have you been in New York?”
“Thirty-three days.”
“And what have you been doing?”
“Reading newspapers.”