Choate answered rather wearily, as if he had asked himself that question and found the answer disheartening.
"Don't know. Guess I'm a non-resident everywhere. I curse about Addington by the hour—the new Addington. But it's come, and come to stay."
"You going to let Moore administer it?"
"If he's elected."
"He can't be elected. We won't have it. What you going to do?"
"Nothing, in politics," said Alston. "They're too vile for a decent man to touch."
Jeffrey thought he had heard the sound of that before. Even in the older days there had been some among the ultra-conservative who refused to pollute their ideals by dropping a ballot. But it hadn't mattered much then. Public government had been as dual in its nature as good and evil, sometimes swaying to the side of one party, sometimes the other; but always, such had been traditionary influence, the best man of a party had been nominated. Then there was no talk of Weedon Moores.
"Do you suppose Weedie's going on with his circus-ground rallies?" he asked.
"They say not."
"Who?"