“I’ve been telling Carman, Glenn,” Powell was explaining, “that if he is elected—and gets into the Court House—”
Marley looked at Powell expectantly.
“I want him,” Powell went on, “to make you his deputy.”
Marley saw it all in a flash; this was what Powell had meant that day a fortnight ago; he felt his great affection for Powell glow and warm; Lavinia would appreciate Powell after this. It meant salary, position, a place in which he might complete his law studies at his leisure; it meant a living, a home, marriage, Lavinia! He looked all his gratitude at Powell, who smiled appreciatively.
Carman had turned his face away again, he was still smiling, and plucking now at his chin; Marley waited, and Powell finally grew impatient.
“Well, Jake, what do you say?”
Carman waited a moment longer, then slowly turned about. Marley watched him narrowly, he saw the pupil of his right eye contract, the pupil of the watery left eye remained fixed; then, for the first time, Carman looked steadily at Marley and for the first time he spoke.
“Well,” he said, and he stopped to spit out his tobacco, “you know I’m always ready to do a friend a good turn.”
Powell looked Carman over carefully a moment, and then he said,
“All right, Jake.”