The City Editor's Conscience
But the others were not looking at Henderson.
Maguire's face had worn several sorts of expressions, and now it had none. He had reached out and grasped the chain in the middle. Now he stood there with the perspiration pouring down his face and looking like a little boy who had been caught doing something bad.
He knew the whole staff was looking at him, and some of the editors, who had lingered to see the fun. The office-boys were there too. But he only opened the back of the watch and exposed the shining golden inside case, as if he wanted to see the karat mark. Then, realizing what a foolish thing he was doing, he abruptly laid it down on his desk on some copy-paper. He knew he had to say something. "Well, boys," he began, looking up and then down again, "I don't believe I have anything to say." He stood still a moment looking helpless. Somebody coughed. He suddenly realized that he must seem very ungrateful, and he opened his mouth and said:
"Gentlemen." Everyone was silent.
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