Bangs unfolded his newspaper
and read it the rest of the way to the city.
At the office door he was dismounting from the car with his silence still
unbroken, when Quin asked nervously:
"Shall I go on with my old job, sir?"
Mr. Bangs wheeled upon him, his eyes like fiery gimlets.
"No!" he thundered. "You needn't go on with anything! For six months I
have wasted time trying to teach you something about business. I've
pushed you along faster than your ability warranted. I've given you a
chance to quadruple your salary. And what is the result? You give me a
lot of hot air about your conscience. Why don't you get a soap-box and
preach on the street-corners? You can draw your money and go. There is no
room on my pay-roll for angels!"
And, with a contemptuous shrug, he passed into the factory, leaving Quin
standing dazed and appalled on the sidewalk.
CHAPTER 29
As long as a man can see his goal shining, however faint and distant, he
will steer his craft with tolerable reason and patience; but let the
beacon-light be extinguished, and he promptly abandons reason and rashly
trusts to instinct to guide him.
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