Gertrude sat up straight in her chair. "There are two sides to me, Bailey," she answered. "I suppose there are two to most people. There is the Gertrude Van Deusen who has been shielded and cared for all her life, who has never known hardship or difficulty—or even work; and sometimes—as tonight here in the shelter of my father's fine library, she comes to the surface with her cry for luxury and the easy sheltered path she has always known. But there is another Gertrude Van Deusen, who having laid her hand to the plough, would deem it a disgrace to turn back before her furrow is ploughed. She is the one who stands ready to face anything, to dare the city rogues, to root out corruption if it exists—and I think it does."
"Not much doubt of that," returned Bailey. "And good for you. You're the same girl I used to drive into a corner of the snow-fort, just to see you fight."
"Not very ladylike, was I?" smiled Gertrude. "But if I had been of the ladylike kind,—well, Roma would have had Burke in as mayor now. And Bailey, I believe Burke is deep in that Boulevard business. How shall we find out?"
They talked for a long time over the glowing coals; then Mary Snow came in and Jessie Craig again, and there was music and a quiet game of whist, after which Bailey escorted Mary away with his most gallantly protective air.
"Gertrude, do you think Bailey is just a trifle interested there,—in Mary Snow, I mean?" asked Miss Craig when they had gone.
"Bailey? O, no," answered Gertrude. He had been devoted to her so many years, she felt an almost proprietary interest in him. She felt that she might have married Armstrong any time within the last ten years. "Bailey is always interested in people I like," she went on. "And I certainly do like Mary. I don't know what I could do without her. The work brings the two in close consultation often, you know." She did not see the lifting of Jessica's dainty eye-brows as she turned to say good-night. And it was well she did not see Bailey when he said good-bye to Mary a little later.
The next morning Vickery came to see her again.
"Weren't expecting to see me so soon, perhaps?" he asked as he drew close to her desk. "But I thought I'd drop in and see what you've decided on,—or if you've decided on anything. How is it? Coming in with us?"
"There are still some points I want to question you about," said the Mayor. "Minnie, will you give us the room, free from interruption a few minutes? Thank you. Now, Mr. Vickery, will you go over your proposition again?"
The man did so, explaining the advantages and necessities of the desired franchise with many words. She asked an occasional question, cautiously and with apparent lack of intelligence, and even at the close of their talk he doubted if she understood half of what he had been saying.