"And prays God night and morning to give him greater strength with which to hate it harder—yes——"
"But you're not so blind?"
"There must be a little fire where there's so much smoke. A crazy fool might try to kill the new President."
Ned Vaughan's slender figure stiffened:
"The South won't fight that way. If they begin war it will be the most solemn act of life. It will be for God and country, and what they believe to be right. The Southern people are not assassins. When they take Washington it will be with the bayonet."
"And yet your brother had a taste of Southern feeling here the night of the election when a mob broke in and smashed the office of the Republican."
"A gang of hoodlums," he protested. "Anything may happen on election night to an opposition newspaper. The Southern men who formed that mob will never give this administration trouble——"
"I'm so anxious to meet your brother," Betty interrupted. "Why doesn't he come?"
"He's in the Senate Chamber for the ceremonies. He'll join us before the procession gets here."
"He's as handsome as everybody says?" she asked naïvely.