“And you let her sign a column on your page?”
“Oh, she’s a highly moral murderess. Killed her lover in defense of her honor, you know. Which means that she shot him when he got tired of her. A sobbing jury promptly acquitted her, and now she’s writing ‘Warnings to Young Girls.’ They’re most improving and affecting, I assure you. We look after that.”
“Ban! I hate to have you so cynical.”
“Not at all,” he protested. “Ask the Prevention of Vice people and the criminologists. They’ll tell you that Evadne’s column is a real influence for good among the people who read and believe it.”
“What class is Reformed Rennigan’s sermon aimed at?” she inquired, with wrinkling nostrils. “‘Soaking it to Satan’; is that another regular feature?”
“Twice a week. It gives us a Y.M.C.A. circulation that is worth a good deal to us. Outside of my double column, the page is a sort of forum. I’ll take anything that is interesting or authoritative. For example, if Royce Melvin had something of value to say to the public about music, where else could she find so wide a hearing as through The Patriot?”
“No, I thank you,” returned his visitor dryly.
“No? Are you sure? What is your opinion of ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ as a national song?”
“It’s dreadful.”
“Why?”