For a moment Amos remained very quietly in his chair; then he coughed, such a loud, harsh cough that Chase jumped. And then he said slowly: “Chase—you startled me.”
Chase said condescendingly, grandly: “No reason for that, Amos.”
“But my land, man—the Senate! Me in the Senate!”
“Why not? Worse men than you are there.”
“Chase—you’re the man for the Senate—not me.”
Chase bridled like a girl. “No, no, Amos. You’ve the experience, the wide view—”
Amos seemed to recall something. “That’s so, Chase. And you—you ain’t Mayor yet. Something might happen.”
“It won’t.”
Amos rose. “Chase,” he said, “I’ve got to know you better to-night than in twenty years.”
Chase grasped the Congressman’s hand firmly. This was a habit of his, this firm clasp. “It’s high time, then, Amos.”