"Then what are you?" blurted Presson, but checked himself in evident confusion.
"Eh?" inquired General Waymouth, mildly.
"I—I don't know what it was I had in my mind—guess I was thinking about something else."
But the General smiled as though he understood. Then he went into the inner room, explaining that he wished to make himself presentable to the ladies.
The chairman took a crafty survey of Harlan.
"Between you and me, my boy," he said, getting back upon his old-time footing with Thornton's grandson, "the General has got both of my eyes put out, so far's his politics go. Did you hear him just rip into those ramrodders? And yet he's been stiffer and straighter than the worst of 'em since he struck this city. I'd like to know who in thunder he is playing with, anyway! What does he say to you, on the side?"
"You'd better get General Waymouth's plans from himself, Mr. Presson."
"I'm not asking you to betray anything. But he's got a policy, of course. I only want to know it, so that I can grab in with him. But I can't figure anything, so far."
"I thought he made himself pretty plain last night."
"He made himself plain, I'll admit that. Plain that he's against everything that the party management stands for. But now he turns around and kicks out the other crowd! He's got to pick his gait and take a position somewhere!"