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"The damned Southern upstart," growled Teerswell, forgetting Stillings' birth-place. "Do you mean to say he's actually slated for the place?" "He's sure of it, unless something turns up." "Well, who'd have dreamed it?" Teerswell mixed another stiff dram. "And that isn't all," came Sam Stillings' unctuous voice. Teerswell glanced at him.
"A fool speech that speech cost him, I calculate, between twenty-four and forty-eight thousand dollars." "Possibly he's satisfied with his bargain." "Possibly. Are you?" "With his bargain?" quickly. "Yes." "No," he pressed her, "with your bargain?" "What bargain?" she parried. "To marry him." "Oh, no; that's off." "Is it off?" cried Teerswell delightedly. "Good!
"They visit Senator Smith's together; he takes her home from the Treble Clef; they say he talked to nobody else at her party; she recommends him for the campaign " "What!" Teerswell again exploded. But Stillings continued smoothly: "Oh, I have ways of finding things out. She corresponds with him during the campaign; she asks Smith to make him Register; and he calls on her every night."
Nevertheless, the two were usually seen in public together, and although she often showed her quiet mastery of the situation, seldom had she snubbed him so openly as at the Treble Clef concert. Teerswell was furious and began to plot vengeance; but Miss Wynn was attracted by the personality of Bles Alwyn.
Miss Taylor Mr. Alwyn and," with a backward curving of her neck, "Mr. Teerswell," and so on. Mr. Teerswell was handsome and indolent, with indecision in his face and a cynical voice. In a moment Bles felt the subtle antagonism of the group. He was an intruder. Mr. Teerswell nodded easily and turned away, continuing his conversation with the ladies. But Miss Wynn was perverse and interrupted.
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