"Oh, yes, I suppose so," answered Allingham, turning back to his desk. "But I was brought up to believe a woman's place was at home with her husband and children."
"So was I," said Morgan, who was a privileged friend as well as secretary. "But the teachings of twenty years ago are out of place today. Indeed, they are as old-fashioned as they were a hundred years before. Miss Van Deusen is a magnificent woman,—the fit daughter of the old Senator."
"You know her?" said Allingham, irrelevantly.
"Well, no, not exactly. I've met her. But my cousins know her well, and she must be,—from all I hear, a thoroughly womanly woman. And, they all say, will marry Armstrong."
"Let her keep out of politics, then," growled Allingham. "Look here. A woman like that, according to my mind, would better get down on her knees and scrub her own front stairs than try to clean out City Hall. And she's not the woman for either job."
He chewed his moustache savagely, and strode out of the room, knocking over his chair in the process and causing his stenographer considerable alarm as he banged the door together on his way out. Morgan looked after him and smiled.