“Larry Murphy has asked me to be his wife.”
A quick change came over Maggie’s face; she paled, then flushed, and faltered when she tried to speak.
“Why, Maggie,” said Mary, anxiously. “What’s the matter?”
But Maggie had recovered quickly and replied:
“I am only glad, Mary—glad for your sake; you will be very happy; for Larry has a good heart.”
“It came so strangely, too,” said Mary, a happy light in her quiet eyes. “We barely knew each other, I mean in the conventional sense, but I must have loved him and he must have loved me for ever so long without either of us knowing it. And, oh, he thinks so much of you, Maggie; why, you and he were boy and girl together, and yet I don’t remember ever hearing you speak of him.”
“We have not seen much of each other for a long time,” said Maggie quietly.
When they finally came down into the parlour, Mason was ready to take his leave; he had his hat and stick in his hand and was exchanging some last words with Owen.
“Every man,” he was saying, “who has the good of the city at heart, and who has the slightest sense of justice, will do everything in his power to prevent this proposed steal. I have made up my mind that the only way to prevent its consummation is to canvass persons who have influence in their own neighbourhood, acquaint them with the facts and endeavour to organize an opposition at the primaries.”
“There yez have it,” said Owen, approvingly. “The primaries is the place till make the fight; lave thim wanst git control av the convintions in the different wards, an’ they’ll put their own bla’gards on the regular ticket an’ thin the divil himself couldn’t bate thim.”