"There's no 'but' in this," said Alvord. "The 'buts' are postponed until after election."
"There's nothing to the election," said Edgington. "You have things lined up——"
"We have things lined up——" suggested Alvord.
"Yes, that's right," acquiesced Edgington. "It's 'we,' with all my heart since the decision. I was saying that the way you have the different interests working together is perfectly ideal, the wets and the drys, the wide-opens and the closed-lids, the saloons and the dives and the churches—all shouting for Brassfield; and each class thinks he's for its policy. The other man has about as much show—well, the next is on me. Would you mind pressing the button, Jim?"
The waiter came, bringing a penciled note to Mr. Brassfield.
"One of your constituents," it read, "would like a moment's conversation with you in the lobby."
Brassfield drew the waiter aside.
"Who is this, George?" asked he, tapping the note. "A woman?"
"A young lady, suh," was the answer. "A mahty hahnsome young lady, suh."
"Bright auburn hair?" asked Brassfield, "and short?"