... Truly, he had served his apprenticeship, and was meet
for his opportunity. For eight long months he had stood in line, doing
his duty quietly and well, asking no favor of anybody. And now at last
Warwick had beckoned him and set the mystic star upon his forehead....
Iridescent visionry enwrapped the young man, and he swam in it goldenly.
In time his spirit returned to his body, and he found himself leaning
back in a very matter-of-fact chair, facing a very plain question. How
could the shifting back, the rationalizing, of the paper's position be
accomplished with the minimum of shock? How could he rescue the party
with the least possible damage to the _Post's_ consistency?
West went to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room, pulled out a
large folder marked, _Reformatory_, and, returning to his seat, ran
hurriedly through the _Post's_ editorials on this subject during the
past twelvemonth. Over some of the phrases he ground his teeth. They
floated irritatingly in his head as he once more leaned back in his
chair and frowned at the opposite wall.
Gradually there took form in his mind a line of reasoning which would
appear to grow with some degree of naturalness out of what had gone
before, harmonizing the basic continuity of the _Post's_ attitude, and
minimizing the change in present angle or point of view.
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