“Thank you,” said Peter. “I like a cigar, but it must be a good one, and that kind I can’t afford.” He lit the cigar, and leaned back to luxuriate in it.
“You’ll like that, I’m sure. Pretty sight, isn’t it?” Costell pointed to the broad veranda, three stories below them, gay with brilliant dresses.
“Yes. It’s my first visit here, so it’s new to me.”
“It won’t be your last. You’ll be attending other conventions than this.”
“I hope so.”
“One of my scouts tells me you’ve had a call from Maguire?”
“Yes.” Peter hesitated a moment. “He wants me to nominate Porter,” he continued, as soon as he had decided that plain speaking was fair to Maguire.
“We shall be very sorry to see you do it.”
“I don’t think I shall. They only want me because it would give the impression that Porter has a city backing, and to try to give that amounts to a deception.”
“Can they get Schlurger or Kennedy?”