“Well,” he said, spreading his hands wide, “of course, if you don’t care enough to look in the newspapers!”
“But how could I, Morley?” said Amelia. “How was I to know where to look?”
“Why, in the Springfield despatches.”
“I began by reading the papers,” Amelia said. “But, really now, Morley, you know I couldn’t find anything in them about you.”
“The most important work in the legislature isn’t done in the newspapers,” said Vernon, with a significance that was intended to hide his inconsistency. “There are committee meetings, and conferences and caucuses; it is there that policies are mapped out and legislation framed.”
He spoke darkly, as of secret sessions held at night on the upper floors of hotels, attended only by those who had received whispered invitations.
“But if you must be in politics,” she said, “why don’t you do something big, something great, something to make a stir? Show your friends that you are really accomplishing something!”
Amelia sat erect and gave a strenuous gesture with one of her little fists clenched. Her dark eyes showed the excitement of ambition. But Vernon drooped and placed his hand wearily to his brow. Instantly Amelia started up from her chair.
“Does that light annoy you?” Her tone was altogether different from her ambitious one. She was stretching out a hand toward the lamp, and the white flesh glowed red between her fingers, held against the light.
“Never mind,” said Vernon. “It doesn’t bother me.”