“She must think you a deserter. And there is bigger work for you, too! Here is a great political fight on, and my husband is not in it. Every man must slay his dragon. There is a whole city of dragons!”
“Yes,” smiled Paul; “I see. You want me to put my legs under the same cloth with Banks and ask him about his golf score.”
“If you want to fight him, have it out on public grounds; fight him in politics.”
“We are on the same side!”
Moya laughed, but she looked a little dashed.
“Banks comes of gentlemen. He inherited his opinions,” said Paul.
“He may have inherited a few other things, if we could have patience with him.”
“Are you sorry for Banks?”
“I shall be sorry for him—when he meets you. He has been spared that too long.”
“Dispenser of destinies, I bow as I always do!”