He was writing a story—he used the word casually and naturally now—concerning the resignation of a middle-ranking minister from the Wilson government. It was not the stuff of headlines, but with careful nurturing it could grow. Harry knew that the minister had been hastened from office as a result of his affair with his secretary, already a married woman. So Harry chose his words carefully, hinting rather than stating impropriety, lending an air of ambiguity to all his phrases, making it clear that the minister was a married man with three small children. He enjoyed this process. It gave him power. His career at the Morning Chronicle had so far been a success. He had begun work as one of the reporters filing copy for the gossip column, purportedly written by “Peregrine Porcupine.” Harry found himself at parties and at first nights, at society weddings and at political conferences, on the chance that he would see and talk to a “famous name” or would pick up some gossip that could be repeated to the newspaper’s readership.
