“You have—you ain’t a dry man, are you?”
“I believe in moderation.”
“Now that’s funny, too,” Amos commented, his head on one side in the familiar posture that suggested he was suffering from stiff neck.
“Funny? Why?”
“You and me. Me—I’m a wet man; I believe in license. But I’m a teetotaller. You’re a dry man—but you like moderation. I’m for a wet state and a dry cellar—and you’re for a dry state and a wet cellar. Ain’t that always the way?”
Chase flushed stiffly. “Many great men have held public views differing from their private practice.”
“Who, f’r instance?”
“Why—many of them.”
Amos nodded. “Well, you’ve studied the thing. Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right.”