.. my socks ... holes appear overnight in
my clothes. Books are the only things I can keep. I am always cluttered
up with them."
"Appearances mean everything ... then, if you have the rest, the goods
to deliver, there is no place a man might not go nor attain."
I looked the small town reporter over in surprise. I studied him closely
for the first time. He belonged to the world, not to Osageville ... the
world of fashion, of smartness ... a world I despised. My world and his
would always be like separate planets. He would consort with people for
the mere pleasure of social life with them. The one thing I did not like
about him was his small mouth ... but then I did not like my own mouth
... it was large, sensual, loose and cruel.
And his walk ... it was almost dainty mincing. But then my walk was a
loose, bent-kneed method of progression....
* * * * *
Miss Martin, the celebrated exposer of corrupt millionaires and captains
of industry, was dark and tall. She had been good-looking in girlhood.
She had fine eyes in a devastated face.
I found myself petted, mothered by her. As soon as she saw me she
removed a thread that hung to my coatsleeve.
At supper I was told of a new project. A group of writers, especially of
writers who were in revolt against big business and the corruption of
the trusts, were about to effect a combination and start what was to be
called the _National Magazine_; for it was to be no less than that, a
magazine embracing all America, to serve as a re-invigorant and
re-corroborant for new national ideals .
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