"When do I have to go over my proofs?" asked the tired-eyed and innocent youth.
"What proofs?"
"My story proofs!"
Pyott forced his eyes to meet those of the pale-faced boy looking up at him. The managing editor did so without an outward flinch. He was more or less used to such things.
"You've made good, my boy!" He casually turned away before he spoke the next sentence. "BUT WE'VE HAD TO KILL THAT STORY OF YOURS!"
Trotter did not move. He did not even gulp. He merely closed his tired eyes and at the same time let his lower lip fall a trifle away from the upper, as his breath came brokenly between them.
Then he sat down. For they had done more than kill his story. They had killed the spirit of Youth in him. There would be other battles, he knew, and perhaps other victories—but never again that fine, careless rapture of Youth! For they had killed his firstborn!
***************************************************************** Vol. XXIII December 1910 No. 6
AN OPEN MIND: WILLIAM JAMES {p 800-801}
By WALTER LIPPMANN