"I've been with him a couple of months," he said, "and I haven't the
slightest idea whether he thinks me a good sort or a silly ass, and I
don't suppose I ever shall know. By Jove, there he is now!" as we heard
the crunch of tires on the drive. "Excuse me if I make a run for it; he
may want me any minute. See you later."
At dinner that night Mr. Pulitzer devoted his whole attention to laying
bare the vast areas of ignorance on the map of my information. He
carried me from country to country, from century to century, through
history, art, literature, biography, economics, music, the drama, and
current politics. Whenever he hit upon some small spot where my
investigations had lingered and where my memory served me he left it
immediately, with the remark, "Well, I don't care about that; that
doesn't amount to anything, anyhow."
It was worse than useless to make any pretense of knowing things, for if
you said you knew a play, for instance, J. P. would say, "Good! Now
begin at the second scene of the third act, where the curtain rises on
the two conspirators in the courtyard of the hotel; just carry it along
from there"--and if you didn't know it thoroughly you were soon in
difficulties.
His method was nicely adjusted to his needs, for he was concerned most
of the time to get entertainment as well as information; and he was,
therefore, amused by exposing your ignorance when he was not informed by
uncovering your knowledge.
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