Wint cut in, almost pleading: “But, mother, you said yourself this was a good thing. To clean up Hardiston. And father’s always been in favor of it.”
“That was before I understood that Congressman Caretall was doing it to hurt your father. I don’t think anything is good that hurts your father, Wint. You ought not to say that. You know I—”
“But he’s not doing it to hurt dad, mother. I told you that. I’m doing it myself; he’s not doing it at all.”
“Your father understands these things better than you, Wint. Didn’t he tell you Congressman Caretall was just using you? I shouldn’t think you’d be willing to—”
The elder Chase said uneasily: “I know him better than you, Wint.”
Wint pushed back his chair and looked steadily at the older man. “You talk like V. R. Kite, dad,” he said.
Chase confessed his guilt by the vehemence of his protestations. “That’s not so, Wint. And in any case, Kite is an honest man compared to Caretall. He plays square with his friends, at least. That’s more than Amos can say.”
Wint asked: “What makes you think Amos is playing crooked now? Not that he has anything to do with this....”
“I know him. He’s always crooked. A crooked, double-crossing politician.”
“I’m not defending Amos,” Wint said stubbornly. “He’s treated you badly. But he’s been decent to me. I’ll not turn against him. And anyway, this is my doing, my business. He’s not in it at all.”