"I guess, Davy," said Jane shrewdly, "if you told them the whole truth about yourself and your party they'd have sense enough—to vote for Victor Dorn."
"He's a demagogue," said Davy with an angry jerk at his rein. "He knows the people aren't fit to rule."
"Who is?" said Jane. "I've yet to see any human creature who could run anything without making more or less of a mess of it. And—well, personally, I'd prefer incompetent honest servants to competent ones who were liars or thieves."
"Sometimes I think," said Davy, "that the only thing to do is to burn the world up and start another one."
"You don't talk like a man who expected to be elected," said Jane.
"Oh—I'm worrying about myself—not about the election," said Hull, lapsing into sullen silence. And certainly he had no reason to worry about the election. He had the Citizen's Alliance and the Democratic nominations. And, as a further aid to him, Dick Kelly had given the Republican nomination to Alfred Sawyer, about the most unpopular manufacturer in that region. Sawyer, a shrewd money maker, was an ass in other ways, was strongly seized of the itch for public office. Kelly, seeking the man who would be the weakest, combined business with good politics; he forced Sawyer to pay fifty thousand dollars into the "campaign fund" in a lump sum, and was counting confidently upon "milking" him for another fifty thousand in installments during the campaign. Thus, in the natural order of things, Davy could safely assume that he would be the next mayor of Remsen City by a gratifyingly large majority. The last vote of the Workingmen's League had been made fifteen hundred. Though it should quadruple its strength at the coming election—which was most improbable—it would still be a badly beaten second. Politically, Davy was at ease.
Jane waited ten minutes, then asked abruptly:
"What's become of Selma Gordon?"
"Did you see this week's New Day?"
"Is it out? I've seen no one, and haven't been down town."