When the two diplomats rode home half an hour later, it was with the assurance that Armitage’s condition was satisfactory.
“He is a hardy plant,” said the surgeon, “and will pull through.”
CHAPTER XXVIII
JOHN ARMITAGE
If so be, you can discover a mode of life more desirable than the being a king, for those who shall be kings; then the true Ideal of the State will become a possibility; but not otherwise.—Marius the Epicurean.
June roses overflowed the veranda rail of Baron von Marhof’s cottage at Storm Springs. The Ambassador and his friend and counsel, Judge Hilton Claiborne, sat in a cool corner with a wicker table between them. The representative of Austria-Hungary shook his glass with an impatience that tinkled the ice cheerily.
“He’s as obstinate as a mule!”
Judge Claiborne laughed at the Baron’s vehemence.
“He comes by it honestly. I can imagine his father doing the same thing under similar circumstances.”
“What! This rot about democracy! This light tossing away of an honest title, a respectable fortune! My dear sir, there is such a thing as carrying democracy too far!”