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I found it pleasant to watch the Harwoods, who are, as may have been surmised, old friends of mine. The meeting gathered headway, and as one speaker after another was presented by the chairman, I observed that Mrs. Harwood and her husband frequently exchanged glances of approval; and I'm afraid that Mrs.
Their failures strengthen the party and incidentally kill the men who have kicked out of the traces. You never have to bother with them a second time." "But they help clear the air they serve a purpose?" suggested Harwood. He had acquired a taste for the "Nation" and the New York "Evening Post" at college, and Bassett's frank statement of his political opinions struck Dan as mediæval.
"She doesn't take me at all seriously or too seriously: I don't know which!" "How could she take you seriously!" demanded Marian. "I never do! Sylvia, where on earth is our little Daniel? It's nearly time for the cotillion. And if Dan Harwood doesn't show up for that I'll never forgive him in this world." "The cotillion?" repeated Bassett, glancing at his watch. "Hasn't Dan got here yet?
"Wait a moment," he said, "and I will walk home with you." He went to the door and dispatched the guard on an errand; then he seated himself at the table and picked up a pad of paper. He was still writing when Harwood entered. Sylvia and Dan exchanged a nod, but no words passed between them.
Owen, his sister, was not a negligible figure in the background against which the reporter saw he must sketch the Fraserville senator. Harwood had met the wives of other Hoosier statesmen uninteresting creatures in the main, and palpably of little assistance to ambitious husbands. It appeared that the Bassetts spent their summers at their cottage on Lake Waupegan and that Mrs.
As he stacked the bottles noisily in their places he glanced around the little room, and wished he might turn a handspring, just to let off steam and be able to write to Harwood and the other fellows to say his office was big enough to admit of the feat. He wisely crushed the desire, for he recognized the fact that he was under surveillance.
The index completed, she filed papers, smoothed her yellow hair at the wash stand, exchanged fraternal signals with a girl friend in the office opposite, and read the "Courier's" report of the senatorial struggle with complete understanding of its intricacies. "Rose!" It was twelve o'clock when Harwood called her.
"But, do you know, I rather glory in suffering for what I believe to be a right cause!" "But oh, Miss Harwood," exclaimed Jack, now able to speak, "surely no cause would justify the means by which the conspirators have attempted to carry out their project to murder the great and brave king! Surely nothing can justify assassination!" "Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Alethea.
Harwood grinned at the youth's naïve references to Edward Thatcher's political ambitions. Thatcher was known as a wealthy "sport," and Dan had resented his meddling in politics. But this was startling news that Thatcher was measuring himself for a senatorial toga. "You'd better be careful! There's a good story in that!" "But you wouldn't! You see, I'm not supposed to know!"
The lights burned but dimly, like the night-lamps left burning during the hours of rest; and Milsom had ascertained from Mr. Harwood that the household retired before eleven o'clock, at the latest. The apartments occupied by the little girl were on the first floor.
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