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“Damn the clocks and the panel! How do they expect to display all that in a half-double?”

“Dunno, but they do. Look here, can't we take out this bit about 'When your nerves begin to play tricks on you,' and start off with 'Nerves need Nutrax'?”

“Armstrong liked that bit about playing tricks. Human appeal and all that. No, take out that rot about the patent spring-cap bottle.”

“They won't stand for dropping that,” said Miss Meteyard. “That's their pet invention.”

“Do they think people buy nerve-food for the sake of the bottle? Oh, well! I can't do it straight away. Hand it over.”

“The printer wants it by two o'clock,” said Mr. Tallboy, dubiously.

Mr. Ingleby damned the printer, seized the proof and began cutting the copy, uttering offensive ejaculations between his teeth.

“Of all beastly days of the week,” he observed, “Tuesday is the foulest. There's no peace till we get this damned 11-inch double off our chests. There! I've cut out twenty-two words, and you'll have to make it do. You can take that 'with' up into the line above and save a whole line, and that gives you the other eight words.”