She had tremendously good ideas as to city government. Amidon had long entertained similar notions, and that their unity of sentiment might appear, each wrote answers to a list of questions which they made up, and Amidon was hugely delighted to find that they agreed precisely.
"Why not make it your platform?" she asked.
"You mean, a public manifesto?" he queried.
"Surely," said she. "The people ought to know what we represent. Print it, so all may be well informed."
"But that would be an acceptance of the nomination," said he.
"Hardly," she replied. "We have already accepted, and that's settled. But it will raise the contest to one of principle. The best elements of society are with you—Doctor Bulkon might as well have mentioned your name as he described the ideal candidate to-day—and such a noble declaration from you will fill them with joy. Oh, don't you think so?"
"Elizabeth," said he, "if I take this office, it will be for your sake. I shall withdraw, or run on your platform."
"Oh, you can't withdraw," she asseverated. "Not now!"
The adoring glances, in which she constantly surprised him, mitigated somewhat the pique which his ceremoniously respectful parting raised in her heart. She stood looking at the hand he had kissed, and wondering if this was the Eugene of days gone by, but was not quite able to think him cold to her. This was true at all events, she thought, the offensiveness—half-reserve, half-familiarity—the curious impression of strangeness which so nearly caused a breach between them on his return from New York—that was gone, at least. This new attitude of his—well, that was to be considered. In some respects, the change had its element of piquancy—like a love affair with an innocent boy where the wiles of experience had been expected.
In the meantime, Mr. Alvord was happy. He had opened "Brassfield Headquarters," over which he presided with a force of clerks who were busy with poll-books and other clerkly-looking properties. "But," said he to Slater, who called to see him about funds for putting in order the links of the Bellevale Golf and Boating Club against the coming of spring, "there's nothing to it. With the preachers exhorting for us and the wet-goods push and sports plugging enthusiastically, and not a drop of water spilling from either shoulder, the outlook couldn't be better. Of course, we have to go through the form of a contest, but there's no real fight in it."