“Thank you––I know you mean it. But no woman can lead a campaign such as the one we’re just starting. It takes a strong, dominant man who knows politics. Of course, when we go after dancing and cards and dress-reform, I guess I can do all right, but in this campaign––”
“What campaign is this, Miss Starkweather?”
“Sunday enforcement.”
Mr. Mix pursed his lips. “Really?”
She nodded. “We’re going to concentrate on one thing at a time. That’s first.”
“Close all the theatres and everything?”
“Tight!” she said, and the word was like the lash of a whip. “Tight as a drum.”
Mr. Mix controlled himself rigidly. “You’ll have to pardon my seeming indelicacy, but––” He coughed behind his hand. “That might bring about a very unhappy relationship between my family and yours. Had you thought of it?”
“Henry? Humph! Yes. I’m sorry, but I don’t propose to let my family or anybody else’s stand in the way of my principles. Do you? No. If Henry stands in the way, he’s going to get run over. Mark my words.”