At this stage in the proceedings he Observed the president regarding him with what Miffin afterwards described a very sinister smile. Present-to his horror, he heard a feeble voice, which he scarce recognized as his responding to the smiling appeal and promising his active participation in the contest. It came as a further hock to the easy-going Miffin when he learned that all stories had to be submitted within a week.
Before arriving the meeting Mifin had been bubbling over with story ideas, but now that he was required to produce one at short notice his mind seemed paralyzed. Back home he took new courage at the sight of the familiar desk and typewriter. "The sooner I make a start, the quicker I'll finish" he murmured, hopefully setting to work with pencil and paper. After a while he threw down the pencil with a gesture of annoyance. The plot he had been developing simply wouldn't do—too hackneyed, banal
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.