It gave him such a legislative and statesmanlike importance to do this. As he was going leisurely about this quest, testing some of the sensations of a parliamentary leader, Cowley, the correspondent of the Courier, accosted him, and, showing his teeth in that odd smile of his, asked if he cared to say anything about the resolution.
“Only that it comes up as a special order in the morning, and that I have no doubt whatever of its adoption by the Senate.”
“Have you assurances from—”
“From everybody, and every assurance,” said Vernon. “They’re all for it. Come and have a cigar.”
They went over to the cigar stand, and when they had lighted their cigars Cowley said:
“Let’s go out for a little walk; I may be able to tell you something that will interest you.”
IX
VERNON was glad enough of a breath of the evening air, and they went down the steps to the sidewalk. Along the curbstone many men had placed chairs and in these cool and quiet eddies of the brawling stream of politics they joked and laughed peacefully. Sixth Street stretched away dark and inviting. Vernon and Cowley turned southward and strolled along companionably. The air was delicious after the blaze of the hotel; the black shade of a moonless night was restful; their cigars were fragrant.
“I’ve just got hold of a story,” began Cowley, after they had enjoyed the night for a moment in silence. “I’ve just got hold of a story—” he spoke, of course, as always, from the detached standpoint of a newspaper man, “which you ought to know.”
“What is it?” asked Vernon.