“I absolve you from all responsibility for my ruin,” he laughed.
“You’ll join us at Babylon on Sunday?”
“Tomorrow?”
“The sooner the better. We go down this evening—”
The clouds suddenly lifted. Vassar couldn’t keep his face straight. He was so happy it was absurd. An hour ago he was in the depths of despair. The foundations of the nation’s life were sinking. The sky had cleared. The sun was sparkling on the waters of the river in dazzling splendor. The world was beautiful and the country safe.
His mind was planning absurd programs for each day. He wondered for just a moment if she could be capable of plotting with Waldron to remove him from the district for two weeks, to lay the foundations of a movement to wreck his career—
He looked into the depths of her brown eyes and threw the ugly thought to the winds.
CHAPTER XII
VASSAR determined that every day of the two weeks at Babylon should be red lettered in his life. He had never taken a vacation; nor had his father. It was time to adopt this good custom of the country. It was mid-July. The campaign would not really be under way until October. There was nothing to worry about. Neither the suffragettes with their organization nor Waldron with his money could break his hold on the hearts of his people.
He gave himself up to the sheer joy of living for the first time in life. Through the long glorious early days he drove with Virginia in her little dogcart about the beautiful country roads of Long Island. He had never dreamed the panoramas of ravishing landscape that stretched away in endless beauty. He found gentle hills and valleys, babbling brooks and shady woods and always seaward the solemn white sand dunes of the beach and the changing mirror of the bay reflecting their shining forms. On days when the wind was right the far-away roar of the surf could be distinctly heard.