“Oh, no, it wasn’t! You’ve no idea how people are talking about it.”
“Oh, yes, I have,” said Mr. Mix, but he hadn’t the temerity to put a sarcastic stress on it. He was wondering whether, if he issued a statement to assure the public that what was in those pamphlets was pure idealism, and not to be taken as his outline of any immediate campaign, he could remove at least the outer layer of the bad impression, and save his amendment from the wreck. He had thought, earlier, that he wouldn’t need that amendment as a personal weapon against Henry, but the value of it had appreciated by the possibility of losing it. As to the state-wide law, Mr. Mix was totally unconcerned. “Oh, yes, I have,” he said.
“Don’t get too conceited, though, Theodore. The best part of it was mine.”
Mr. Mix’s eagle eye saw a loophole. “You don’t think I’m going to take praise for what belongs to you, do you?” he demanded.
“Why––”
“No, sir!” said Mr. Mix. “Not exactly. I’m going to tell the truth about it at our next meeting, and I’m going to send a statement to the Herald.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. Maybe I’m too finicky, but that’s the kind of man I am.”
“You’re too generous,” she murmured.