Bestowing a twinkle of mingled amusement and conjecture upon the applicant’s clothing, Mr. Gordon said:
“You don’t approve of our social records? Or you’re not interested? Or why is it that you neglect this popular branch?”
“Personal reasons.”
This reply, which took the managing editor somewhat aback, was accurate if not explanatory. Miss Van Arsdale’s commentaries upon Gardner and his quest had inspired Banneker with a contemptuous distaste for this type of journalism. But chiefly he had shunned the society columns from dread of finding there some mention of her who had been Io Welland. He was resolved to conquer and evict that memory; he would not consciously put himself in the way of anything that recalled it.
“Hum! And this notion of making an intensive study of the papers; was that original with you?”
“Well, no, not entirely. I got it from a man who made himself a bank president in seven years.”
“Yes? How did he do that?”
“He started by reading everything he could find about money and coinage and stocks and bonds and other financial paper. He told me that it was incredible the things that financial experts didn’t know about their own business—the deep-down things—and that he guessed it was so with any business. He got on top by really knowing the things that everybody was supposed to know.”
“A sound theory, I dare say. Most financiers aren’t so revealing.”
“He and I were padding the hoof together. We were both hoboes then.”