"Ben, old boy, don't you realize that every reporter, special correspondent, feature writer, commentator, freelance, and sob sister wants the same thing?  You winchells are just one squad in an army; if we let you all have your way, you would kill off the poor jerk in twenty-four hours.  Polly Peepers was here not twenty minutes ago.  She wanted to interview him on love life among the Martians." Berquist threw up both hands and looked helpless.