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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Hold up a minute. I wouldn't mix in it, but I've done a good deal for the two of 'em, and I've lost a good deal by Harpwood's play on me. I expect Harpwood will set her against you, and I want her to do for you, pretty. So you tell Lockwin he must act quick, and mustn't let her commit no bigamy. She's too good a woman, and you need money bad, sissy. All my twenty-pieces! All my twenty-pieces!
That is what this party is for. I've seen them together, and I know what's in the air." "Is that so?" says David Lockwin. "Yes, it is so, and you know you don't like Harpwood any too well since he got your primary in the Eleventh." "I should say I didn't!" says Lockwin, half to himself. At a distance, Esther Wandrell passes on Harpwood's arm. "Who is Harpwood?" asks Lockwin.
He may have called so have a thousand other gentlemen. They have rarely seen Mrs. Lockwin, for she has been at the cenotaph, the hospital, and the grave of little Davy. So long as Harpwood's suit has flourished by letter, why should the less cautious method of speech be interposed? To-day, Esther could not sustain the intermission of the usual consolatory epistle.
"The wedding will be private," says Mrs. Grundy with sorrow. "But the Mrs. Harpwood that is to be will this winter entertain on a lavish scale. She is devoted to Harpwood's political aspirations." "That man Harpwood, if he gets to Congress this winter, will begin a great career. I wouldn't be surprised to see him President," says one bank cashier to another.
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