Название: The Job (Unabridged)
Автор: Sinclair Lewis
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788027248384
isbn:
“Ever try to write any fiction?” Una once heard S. Herbert retort.
“No, but Lord! any fool could write better stuff than they publish. It’s all a freeze-out game; editors just accept stuff by their friends.”
In one week Una heard Walter Babson make approximately the same assertions to three different men, and to whoever in the open office might care to listen and profit thereby. Then, apparently, he ceased to hear the call of literature, and he snorted at S. Herbert Ross’s stodgy assistant that he was a wage-slave, and a fool not to form a clerks’ union. In a week or two he was literary again. He dashed down to the office-manager, poked a sheet of copy-paper at him, and yelped: “Say, Nat. Read that and tell me just what you think of it. I’m going to put some literary flavor into the Gas-bag even if it does explode it. Look — see. I’ve taken a boost for the Kells Karburetor — rotten lying boost it is, too — and turned it into this running verse, read it like prose, pleasant and easy to digest, especially beneficial to children and S. Herbert Souse, Sherbert Souse, I mean.” He rapidly read an amazing lyric beginning, “Motorists, you hadn’t better monkey with the carburetor, all the racers, all the swells, have equipped their cars with Kells. We are privileged to announce what will give the trade a jounce, that the floats have been improved like all motorists would have loved.”
He broke off and shouted, “Punk last line, but I’ll fix it up. Say, that’ll get ’em all going, eh? Say, I bet the Kells people use it in bill-board ads. all over the country, and maybe sign my name. Ads., why say, it takes a literary guy to write ads., not a fat-headed commercialist like S. Charlie Hoss.”
Two days later Una heard Babson come out and lament that the managing editor didn’t like his masterpiece and was going to use the Kells Karburetor Kompany’s original write-up. “That’s what you get when you try to give the Gas-bag some literary flavor — don’t appreciate it!”
She would rather have despised him, except that he stopped by the office-boys’ bench to pull their hair and tell them to read English dictionaries. And when Miss Moynihan looked dejected, Babson demanded of her, “What’s trouble, girlie? Anybody I can lick for you? Glad to fire the owner, or anything. Haven’t met you yet, but my name is Roosevelt, and I’m the new janitor,” with a hundred other chuckling idiocies, till Miss Moynihan was happy again. Una warmed to his friendliness, like that of a tail-wagging little yellow pup.
And always she craved the touch of his dark, blunt, nervous hands. Whenever he lighted a cigarette she was startled by his masculine way of putting out the match and jerking it away from him in one abrupt motion.... She had never studied male mannerisms before. To Miss Golden of Panama men had always been “the boys.”
All this time Walter Babson had never spoken to her.
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