Without moving, still gazing deeply into the coals, after a little minute, he added:
“He was the most generous man I ever knew.”
“Yes; and I believe, after all, when the time came, he would have been with you for the renomination.” The governor stretched out his hand to stay Gilman’s speech.
“I was not thinking of that, Leonard.”
The governor did this gently, as he did all things. Gilman’s face reddened—for the fire was growing hot—and silence fell again between them. Gilman felt the silence. He flung his cigarette into the fire. Then he rose.
“Guess I’ll go over to the Leland,” he said. “Some of the boys may have particulars.”
The governor nodded acquiescence, but as Gilman reached the door that leads into the northwest drawing-room, he spoke:
“Before you go hand me the statutes, if you please. I suppose I have some duty to perform in an event like this.”
Gilman who longed only for action, bore with alacrity the three big calf-skin volumes to the library table, and turned to the index.
“I’ll find the section for you.” Gilman examined the second volume for an instant, and then said: “Here it is.”