"Oh, all except those who don't count, or rather, who merely count."

"How do you mean?" Howard was taking advantage of her looking into her
plate to smile with a suggestion of irony. She happened to glance up and so
caught him.

"Oh," she said, smiling with frank irony at him, "I mean all those
people--the masses, I think they're called--the people who have to be
fussed over and reformed and who keep shops and--and all that."

"The people who work, you mean?"

"No, I mean the people you never meet about anywhere, the people who read
the newspapers and come to the basement door."

"Oh, yes, I understand." Howard was laughing. "Well, that's one way of
looking at life. Of course it's not my way."

"What is your way?"

"Why, being one of those who count only in the census, I naturally take a
view rather different from yours. Now I should say that _your_ people
don't count. You see, I am most deeply interested in people who read
newspapers."

"Oh, you write for the papers, like Jim Segur? What do you write?"

"What they call editorials."

"You are an editor?"