ou typewritten copies of same. Use what you will. Only correct my
English, won't you? I'm not literary."

That made them his friends. But the _Tribune_ man said:

"I'm from Missouri and I'm not going to print anything unless--"

"I don't expect you to print news. These gentlemen know I receive no
salary. They know as well as I do that my sole object is to win the hand
of Grace Goodchild."

The _Journal_ man, who was sweet on the "Advice to the Love-Lorn"
editress, feverishly wrote the head-line,

ALL FOR LOVE!

"I needn't say to you," went on H. R., with a look that made the
reporters respect his reticence, "that if I were an advertising man the
publicity methods that I have introduced would have made me richer than
I am. _What in hell would I do with more money?_ Answer me that!"

The _Tribune_ man answered by turning pale. The others looked uneasy.
When a well-dressed young man asks that question in New York there can
be but two answers: Bloomingdale or Standard Oil.

H. R. was going to marry a rich banker's only daughter. He was therefore
no lunatic.

H. R. was thenceforth regarded by the newspapers, and therefore by the
public, as a fabulously rich man. This made him definitely Front Page.
No other man ever became chronically that without committing murder or
playing for the labor vote.

XVIII

All the morning papers spread themselves on the story and thereby gained
the respect of those present at the meeting whose names were mentioned.
Only one of the journals featured Grace Goodchild. Two dwelt strongly on
the ten-thousand-dollar coupon and on the fact that the wealth of those
present at the Granite Presbyterian Church aggregated $3,251,280,000.
One pure-food featurer played up the ideal meal, and two the hope that
at last charity would be discriminating.

At 9.14 A.M. messages began to rain down on H. R. They came by livened
youth, by telephone, and by secretaries.

"Why," asked the Fitz-Marlton, "was not our chef considered enough? Why
drag in others?"

"How does it happen that our fifty-thousand-dollars-a-year Piccolini,
who possesses eighteen decorations from crowned heads, is not one of the
Public Menu Commission? Don't you want the best?" This came from the
Vandergilt in writing that looked like ornamental spaghetti.

"Please call at your earliest convenience and see what we give for
$17.38 in the way of a substantial breakfast," laconically invited Herr
Bummerlich of the Pastora