_Course_ he'd pay Miss
Leslie back. He _said_ he would. He's the nicest man!"
"Isn't your world rather full of nice men, Mickey?"
Mickey renewed his grip. His eyes were pleading, the white light on his
brow was shining, his voice was irresistibly sweet: "You just bet my world
is full of nice men, packed like sardines; but they'll all scrooge up a
little and make room for you on the top layer among the selects! Come on
now! Rustle for your place before we revolve and leave you. All your life
you'll be sorry if you make that scoop, and kill Miss Leslie, and shame
'darling old Daddy,' and ruin my boss. Oh I say Mr. Chaffner, you _can't!_
You can't ever sleep nights again, if you do! They haven't ever done
anything to you. You'll be the _nicest_ man of all, if you'll _tell me
what to do_. 'Twon't take you but a second, 'cause you _know_. Oh tell me,
for the love of God tell me, Mr. Chaffner! _You'll be the nicest man I
know, if you'll tell me_."
The editor looked down in Mickey's compelling eyes.
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