ined, semi-emotional
literary and artistic type who had, however, a curious versatility and
virility not common among those whom he had previously encountered. He
was exceedingly forceful but not poised. That he could eventually
undermine him if he could not dominate him he did not doubt. Still he
was coming in with the backing of Colfax and a great reputation, and it
might not be easy. Eugene made him feel nervous. He wondered as he
looked at him whether Colfax would really make him general literary,
artistic and advertising administrator, or whether he would remain
simply advertising manager as he now entered. Colfax had not accepted
Eugene for more than that.

"Here he is, Florrie," Colfax had said of Eugene, in introducing him to
White. "This is the man I've been talking about. Witla--Mr. White.
White--Mr. Witla. You two want to get together for the good of this
house in the future. What do you think of each other?"

Eugene had previously noted the peculiarity of this rowdy, rah! rah!
attitude on the part of Colfax. He seemed to have no sense of the
conventions of social address and conference at any time.

"Now, by God," Colfax exclaimed, striking his right fist against his
left palm, "unless I am greatly mistaken, this house is going to begin
to move! I'm not positive that I have the man I want, but I think I
have. White, let's stroll around and introduce him."

White swaggered to the office door.

"Sure," he said quietly. "An exceptional man," he said to himself.

Colfax was almost beside himself with satisfaction, for he was subject
to emotional flushes which, however, related to self-aggrandizement
only. He walked with a great stride (little as he was), which was his
wont when he was feeling particularly satisfied. He talked in a loud
voice, for he wanted everyone to know that he, Hiram Colfax, was about
and as forceful as the lord of so great an institution should be. He
could yell and scream something like a woman in a paroxysm of rage when
he was thwarted or irritated. Eugene did not know that as yet.

"Here's one of the printing floors," he said to Eugene, throwing open a
door which revealed a room full of thundering presses of giant size.
"Where's Dodson, boy? Where's Dodson? Tell him to come here. He's
foreman of our printing department," he added, turning to Eugene, as the
printer's devil, who had been working at a press, scurried away to find
his master. "I told you, I guess, that we have thirty