The society reporters of my day were either
obsequious little flunkeys and parasites, or women of good connections
but no money who capitalized their acquaintanceship to make a poor
living, and whom one was sorry for, but would rather not see. Going to
places where one is not asked, scavenging for bits of news from butlers
and housekeepers, sniffing after scandals--perhaps that is part of the
necessary apprenticeship of newspaper work. But it's not a proper work
for a gentleman. And, in any case, Ban, you are that, by the grace of
your ancestral gods.
Little enough did Banneker care for his ancestral gods: but he did
greatly care for the maintenance of those standards which seemed to have
grown, indigenously within him, since he had never consciously
formulated them. As for reporting, of whatever kind, he deemed Miss Van
Arsdale prejudiced. Furthermore, he had met the society reporter of The
Ledger, an elderly, mild, inoffensive man, neat and industrious, and
discerned in him no stigma of the lickspittle. Nevertheless, he hoped
that he would not be assigned to such "society news" as Remington did
not cover in his routine. It might, he conceived, lead him into false
situations where he could be painfully snubbed. And he had never yet
been in a position where any one could snub him without instant
reprisals.
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