"
Blount's grim smile was a match for the editorial face-wrinkling. "You
are like a good many others, Blenkinsop; you see red when you hear the
noise of a railroad train. Perhaps, a little later, I may be able to
persuade you to see another color--yellow, for example. Let it go at
that. Good-night."
Once more in the avenue, Blount turned his steps toward the
Inter-Mountain. Since the campaign was now in its final week, the clans
were gathering in the capital, and the lobby of the great hotel was
filled with groups of caucussing politicians. Blount was halted half a
dozen times before he could make his way to the room-clerk's desk, and
the pumping process to which he was subjected at each fresh stoppage
would have amused him if the fiery resolution which was driving him on
had not temporarily killed his sense of humor. It was evident that, in
spite of all he had been saying and doing, a considerable majority of
the caucussers were still regarding him as his father's lieutenant. He
did not try very hard to remove the impression. It mattered little, in
the present crisis, what the various party henchmen thought or believed.
It was a sharp disappointment when the room-clerk told him that his
father and Mrs. Honoria and their guest had gone to the theatre. He was
keyed to the fighting-pitch, and he wanted to have the deciding word
spoken while his blood was up and there was still time to act.
Pages:
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271