I just blew in to
tell you that I'm goin' to hit you ag'in about day after to-morrow, and
if you don't come across there's goin' to be somethin' doin'; see?"
Blount sprang from his chair and forgot to be politic.
"You needn't come to me the day after to-morrow, or any other time," he
raged. "I'm through with you and your tribe. Get out!"
After Gryson, muttering threats, had gone, the young campaign manager
had an attack of moral nausea. It seemed such a prodigious waste of time
and energy to traffic and chaffer with these petty scoundrels. Thus far,
every phase of the actual political problem seemed to be meanly
degrading, and he was beginning to long keenly for an opportunity to do
some really worthy thing.
Notwithstanding, his ideals were still unshaken. He still clung to the
belief that the corporation, which was created by the law and could
exist only under the protection of the law, must, of necessity, be a
law-abiding entity. It was manifestly unfair to hold it responsible for
the disreputable political methods of those whom it could never
completely control--methods, too, which had been forced upon it by the
necessity, or the fancied necessity, of meeting conditions as they were
found.
As if in answer to the wish that he might find the worthier task, it was
on this day of Gryson's visit that Blount was given his first
opportunity of entering the wider field.
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