"I never withdraw. I am not afraid of anything. I even promise to be good-natured enough to look upon this meeting as a colossal joke." Warrington's cigar had gone out. He relighted it coolly. "If the nomination is offered me, I shall accept it; and once having accepted it, I'll fight, but honorably and in the open. Look here, McQuade, don't be a fool. You've something against me personally. What is it? If I recollect, I ran across you once or twice when I was a newspaper man."
McQuade's eyes narrowed again.
"Personally, you are nothing to me," he replied; "politically, you are a meddler, and you are in my way."
"Oh, I am in your way? That is to say, if I am elected, there'll be too much honesty in the City Hall to suit your plans? I can readily believe that. If you can convince me that I ought not to run for mayor, do so. I can accept any reasonable argument. But bluster will do no good. For a man of your accredited ability, you are making a poor move, even a fatal one."
"Will you withdraw?"
"Emphatically no!"
"All right. Whatever comes your way after this, don't blame me. I have given you a fair warning."
"You have threatened."
"I can act also. And you can put this in your pipe, Mr. Warrington, that before October comes round, when the Republican convention meets, you will withdraw your name quickly enough. This is not a threat. It's a warning. That's all. I'm sorry you can't see the matter from my standpoint."
"Come, boy," said Warrington to his dog. "You had better keep your animal under the table."