"Oh, I suppose it's all right," admitted Estell; "but it's a new line and new lines are dangerous."
"But if dangerous, not without interest," the Senator was quick to retort. "It's settled, at any rate. I'm going to try it."
Mrs. Estell had not accompanied us. I heard her talking to a dog in the hall, and I listened with pleasure, for her voice was strong, deep and singularly musical.
"The next session of the Legislature will be a very busy one, I am inclined to think," Estell remarked.
"Always is," the Senator replied, laughing. "The better part of a new session is generally taken up with the work of repealing the laws passed by an older Assembly."
I was wondering whether Estell would ever become deeply enough interested in my existence to warrant a straight look from his pale and abstracted eye, when he withdrew his gaze from the ceiling, directed it at me and said that he was glad to see me so far advanced toward recovery. It was a mere commonplace which may not have arisen from a real interest, and which politeness could no longer defer, but it gave me a better opinion of him.
"I suppose," said I, not knowing what else to say, "that you find your occupation one of almost painful exactness."
I think that he gave me a look of contempt. I am quite sure that, if he did not, his eye failed him of his intention.
"I wouldn't stay there ten minutes if it meant play," he replied, and turning to the Senator he said: "Saw old Dan Hilliard the other day."
"No!" the Senator exclaimed. "You don't mean old Dan Hilliard?"