"Possibly; but you wouldn't, you know."
The President rose and held out his hand with a smile which no man might analyze.
"You refuse to be bullied, don't you? and you say you would attack anything. I believe you would, and I like that; you shall be given the opportunity, and under a harder master than you have ever had. You may even find yourself required to make bricks without straw. Come, now, hadn't you better retract and go about your business?"
"Never a word; and where Gertrude goes, I go," said Brockway, taking the proffered hand with what show of indifference he could command.
"Very well, if you will have it so. If you are of the same mind in the morning, perhaps you'd better join us at breakfast and we can talk it over. Will you come?"
"Yes, if you will tell the other members of your party why I am there."
The President smiled again, sardonically this time.
"I think the occasion for that has gone by," he said. "Good-night."
When the outer door closed behind his visitor, Brockway collapsed as was his undoubted privilege. Then he revived under the stimulus of an overwaxing and masterful desire to see Gertrude again before he slept—to share the good news with her before the burden of it should crush him. And he was considering how it might be brought about when the engineer blew the whistle for Bending Bow.