“Oh, no!” Madison shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s a touch of bronchitis, brought on by too much speaking in political rallies. That raises the deuce with one’s throat. A day or two of rest will restore me.”
“I hope so,” said Nick.
“You said, I think, that you wish to discuss some feature of the present campaign. To what did you refer?”
Nick dropped his burned match into a cuspidor.
“To the hard fight you and Gordon are making to carry your congressional district,” he remarked, hooking his thumbs through the armholes of his vest and blowing a wreath of smoke toward the ceiling.
“It is a hard fight, Carter, no mistake.”
“Do you expect to win out?”
“I hope to, of course.”
“You will leave no stone unturned, I suppose?”
“No stone that can be legitimately turned. I shall disturb no other.”