Chapter Twenty-Seven: November 11, 1916
By now, you know what happened on Election Day. I will recount my story.
On Tuesday morning, I noticed news editor Oliver Pringle lurking by the staircase in the typists’ room. This was an anomaly, as the kings in the newsroom typically treat the typists as if we were cholera-flavored cream of wheat.
“You there!” he barked through his cigar. “What’s your …
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