Tain't so, Mrs. Locke, honest.
Please don't go to Reno.
This time Phil really was working all night, writing all the editorials for the CRIMSON, and we deny with emphasis that he was involved in any laboratory research at Radcliffe.
We know. We served as midwives at the birth of his brainchild--the editorial page.
We attended him during those long, torturous hours of labor.
We rendered him sedatives during his numerous crises. (Never was your bourbon put to a better purpose, Mr. Lyons.)
We bedded his exhausted and nerve-torn body on Miller's air mattress in the quiet seclusion of Adams House at dawn after he delivered what we consider the most brilliant of all the brain children of this issue.
Please reconsider, Mrs. Locke. The Editors.
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