“No,” Garwood answered, “that’s too high. You’re getting into senatorial figures now.” He laughed again.
“Do be serious, Jerome. I don’t see the difference myself.”
“No, a woman couldn’t—women never could understand politics, anyhow.”
“Well, I understand this—that I have learned a good deal about politics, and my ideas have been changed. I used to think that in this country the people arose and elected their best man to represent them, but it seems that the representative elects himself, and then the people—”
“Don’t you think the people out here elected their best man when I went in?” Garwood asked, with an honest laugh in his eyes.
She bent over impulsively and kissed him.
“Yes, I do,” she said, “but I’m speaking generally now.”
“No, you’re not,” Garwood insisted, “women can’t speak generally. It’s always a personal, concrete question with them.”
“Well, you know, Jerome, I’ve had my ideals—in politics, too, since you interested me in politics.”
“You weren’t interested in politics, you were interested in one politician, and that politician was—me.”