Mariana smiled inscrutably.
"But that was before I had a candidate," she answered.
They followed her to the sidewalk and tucked her carriage furs about her while the footman looked on.
"And you are coming to see me soon?" she insisted—"very soon?"
"We swear it!" they protested.
"And you will tell me all the news of the elections?"
"On our manly faith."
"That I will trust. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!"
The carriage started, when suddenly she lowered the window and looked out, the plume in her hat waving black against the wind.