The magnate
smiled inwardly when he remembered that he had given Gantry, the
division traffic manager of the Transcontinental, a quiet hint to look
up one Evan Blount, a young lawyer, on his next visit to Boston. By all
odds it would be better to wait for Gantry's report before taking any
irrevocable steps in the bargaining with Evan Blount's father; but
unhappily the crisis had arrived, and in all probability it could not be
postponed. None the less, the vice-president tried craftily for the
postponement.
"You're asking a good deal, Blount, and you don't seem to realize it.
You are practically demanding that we lay down our arms and put a
possible enemy in the saddle on the eve of a battle. If we should agree
to meet the people of this State half-way, as you suggest, what
guarantee have we that we won't be compelled to go all the way?"
The fine-lined wrinkles were appearing again at the corners of the
hereditary Blount eyes.
"You can't quite rise to the occasion, can you, Hardwick?" smiled the
boss. "You'd like to behave yourself and be good, of course; but you
want to be cocksure beforehand that it isn't going to cost too much."
"Well, anyway, I'm going to ask for a little time in which to consider
it," was the vice-president's final word.
"Sure! You have all the time there is between now and the election.
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