"Planning for re-nomination?" asked Moore, innocently.
"And your ankle?" asked Danvers of Miss Blair, under cover of the laugh that followed Moore's attempt at wit. "I hope that you are not suffering from it." His observant eye had noted the smooth contour of the girl's face, but as the moments passed the natural lack of high coloring seemed to grow more colorless.
"It hurts—a little," confessed the girl. "But it is of no consequence. Mrs. Latimer's dinner must not be marred by my blundering in the dark. I should have come by the walk."
"You are thoughtful." Danvers looked again at the girl, and wished for the first time that he could use the small talk of society. Politics was debarred from the table conversation, but when they were again in the parlors Miss Blair turned to Danvers.
"Aren't you the senator from Chouteau?"
"Not yet," smiled Philip.
"Oh, but you will be. My brother says so."
"I'm glad some one is optimistic. I'm afraid I shall not be the deciding party."
"Who will be our United States senator?"
"That is hard to tell. So many straws sticking out of the tangle make it difficult to prophesy which will be pulled out."