The Old Reporter
"No," said Woods, rising from his seat, "I won't tell any of the reporters."
"They would like to know what you know," said the girl, earnestly, shaking her head.
"Yes," said Billy.
"You know it would ruin papa if the papers got hold of it—not only ruin him, but—well, you see how it would look to the public?"
"Yes," said Billy, who knew very well.
"Some of them are very clever, papa says. Are you sure you would understand how to deal with reporters?"
"Yes," said Billy, "I would understand. You're quite right," he added, picking up his hat; "don't let them inside the door; don't let anyone in—slam the door in their faces."
The girl even followed him to the door. She was holding out her hand now. It was a beautiful hand. "I have talked very freely to you," she said, her eyes looking frankly into his; "you are a comparative stranger to me, but I feel that I can trust you."
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