Certainly, though, there is a privilege here that is worth something." Cowperwood flared inwardly.

His greatest weakness, if he had one, was that he could but ill brook opposition of any kind.

This young upstart, with his thin, cool face and sharp, hard eyes! He would have liked to tell him and his paper to go to the devil.

He went away, hoping that he could influence the Inquirer in some other way upon the old General's return.
As he was sitting next morning in his office in North Clark Street he was aroused by the still novel-sounding bell of the telephone--one of the earliest in use--on the wall back of him.

After a parley with his secretary, he was informed that a gentleman connected with the Inquirer wished to speak with him.
"This is the Inquirer," said a voice which Cowperwood, his ear to the receiver, thought he recognized as that of young Truman MacDonald, the General's son.