Bertha twitted Frank upon his absent-mindedness one evening as he dined with her. By an effort he shook off his vagary of the other girl. He loved Bertha. But, for some unfathomed cause, she held him off. Never had she let him reach a declaration.
"We're such marvelous friends!... Can't we always be that--just that?"
Things drifted on. Schmitz, as a Mayor, caused but small remark. He reminded Frank of a rustic, sitting at a banquet board and watching his neighbors before daring to pick up a fork or spoon. But Ruef went on building his fences. Union Labor was now a force to deal with. And Ruef was Union Labor.
One of Robert's clients desired to open a French restaurant, with the usual hotel appurtenances. He made application in the usual manner. But the license was denied.
Robert was astonished for no reason was assigned and all requests for explanation were evaded.
A week or so later, Robert met the restaurateur. "Well, I've done it," said the latter, jovially. "Open Monday, Come around and eat with me."
"But--how did you manage it?"
"Oh, I took a tip. I made Ruef my attorney. Big retaining fee," he sighed. "But--well, it's worth the price."