“Well, a man must keep his real nature in subjection in politics.”
“Please don’t, Jerome; you mustn’t keep your real nature in subjection in politics. We need just such men as you in our public life.”
They were silent then.
“Jerome,” the girl said later, “do you really need money so badly?”
“Well, it costs, you know.”
“Why don’t you speak to father—I know he’d be glad to help you. He is very anxious to see you succeed, you know—or if you think that Mr. Pusey can harm you, why can’t you let father speak to him? Father once did him some favor—don’t you remember those sickening, fulsome articles he wrote?”
Garwood gasped at the thought of Emily’s father penetrating that situation.
“Never that!” he said, bringing his fist down on his knee. “Don’t you ever suggest such a thing, Emily, do you hear?” He turned and his eyes glowed as he looked at her. The girl laughed a little laugh of pride in him.
“I’m afraid, Jerome,” she began in a playful way, “that you don’t understand politics very well yourself.” And then she became serious, and sighed.
“But how noble you are! And how high minded! And how I love you for it!”