"I'm going out to find her," insisted his grandson. "This is my own business from now on."
"You try to leave this room in the shape you're in and I'll have you committed to the insane asylum across the river. The girl has more sense than you've got."
While he was speaking Presson came in. He pulled the House bill from his pocket.
"Thornton," he said, walking up to Harlan, "I didn't think there could be anything more important just now than the damnable performance you've just been through and the part my family plays in it. But here's something I propose to take while it's hot!" He shook the document at the young man. Harlan swept it out of his grasp before he could prevent, and buttoned it in his breast-pocket.
"That is mine," he stated, not flinching under the indignant protest.
"If it's yours will you inform me what you intend to do with it?"
"I intend to introduce it in the House at to-morrow's session and work for its passage."
"He's got a bill there," roared the chairman, turning to the Duke, "that's written by the Devil himself! It makes old Waymouth archfiend of all the ramrodders in this State! Our sheriffs are made his deputies and the Russian Tsar becomes a hog-reeve beside him." He blurted out the purport of the measure, garnishing the recital with good, round oaths.
"So you're loaded with that, are you?" inquired the elder Thornton. He was as careless of the presence of the listeners as the chairman had been. He began invective, but the young man broke in.
"Grandfather," he said, firmly, "I've listened long enough to that kind of talk from you and Mr. Presson—I've listened to all kinds of reasons why a man should come here and sell his soul for the sake of getting ahead in politics." He was thinking of the temptation that had come to him in the form of Madeleine Presson. "I don't want any more of it. I don't know of any reason why this State shouldn't obey its laws so long as they remain laws. As to my private business, I suggest that the two of you keep still."