The periodical had no standing, they argued; Bok would be out of sympathy with its general atmosphere after his Scribner environment; he was now in the direct line of progress in New York publishing houses; and, to cap the climax, they each argued in turn, he would be buried in Philadelphia: New York was the centre, etc., etc.
More than any other single argument, this last point destroyed Bok's faith in the judgment of his friends.

He had had experience enough to realize that a man could not be buried in any city, provided he had the ability to stand out from his fellow-men.

He knew from his biographical reading that cream will rise to the surface anywhere, in Philadelphia as well as in New York: it all depended on whether the cream was there: it was up to the man.

Had he within him that peculiar, subtle something that, for the want of a better phrase, we call the editorial instinct?
That was all there was to it, and that decision had to be his and his alone! A business trip for the Scribners now calling him West, Bok decided to stop at Philadelphia, have a talk with Mr.Curtis, and look over his business plant.

He did this, and found Mr.Curtis even more desirous than before to have him consider the position.