"That's good, man-sized talk, son," he commented gently, "and I reckon I
haven't a word to say against it. All I'm going to beg for is this:
we're kin, boy--mighty close kin. Belt away as hard as you like in the
big scrap; it does me good to see that all these little Eastern frills
haven't made you any less a two-fisted, hard-hitting Blount; but don't
let it make you turn your back when your old daddy comes into the room.
That's all I ask. Now you'd better go to bed and sleep up some. There's
another day coming, and if there isn't, none of these little things
we've been haggling over is going to count for much to any of us."
Three minutes later the Honorable Senator Sage-Brush was letting himself
into the sitting-room of his suite on the private dining-room floor by
means of his night-key. The small person whom Gantry and a few others
were still calling the court of last resort was sitting up, and the tiny
embroidery-frame on the table had evidently just been laid aside.
"Well?" she said inquiringly.
The senator shook his head in patient tolerance.
"Whatever you've been doing, it's knocked the bottom clean out for the
boy, Honoria. For a little spell he had me going, and I thought I'd just
naturally have to turn loose and spill all the fat into the fire."
"You mustn't do that," she returned quickly.
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