Supposing that editors ... but
no, this was not the proper beginning of a successful day. But the place,
down steps under the earth, with its miserable shadows was not pleasant to
remember.
His first visit was to the office of _The Morning World_. He remembered his
remark to Stephen about self-assertion, but his heart sank as he entered
the large high room with its railed counter running round the centre of
it--a barrier cold, impassable. Already several people were sitting on
chairs that were ranged along the wall.
Peter went up boldly to the counter and a very thin young man with a stone
hatchet instead of a face and his hair very wonderfully parted in the
middle--so accurately parted that Peter could think of nothing
else--watched him coldly over the barrier.
"What can I do for you?" he said.
"I want to see the Editor."
"Have you an appointment?"
"No."
"Oh, I'm afraid that it would be impossible without an appointment."
"Is there any one whom I could see?"
"If you could tell me your business, perhaps--"
Peter began to be infuriated with this young man with the hatchet face.
"I want to know if there's any place for me on this paper. If I can--"
"Oh!" The voice was very cold indeed and the iron barrier seemed to
multiply itself over and over again all round the room.
"I'm afraid in that case you had better write to the Editor and make an
appointment.
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