Kennedy moved uneasily in his chair. “Yes, I suppose I have promised.”
“Will you release Mr. Kennedy from his promise if he asks it?” Peter queried to Maguire.
“Why, Mr. Stirling, I don’t think either he or you ought to ask it.”
“That was not my question.”
It was the Senator’s turn to squirm. He did not want to say no, for fear of angering Peter, yet he did not like to surrender the advantage. Finally he said: “Yes, I’ll release him, but Mr. Kennedy isn’t the kind of a man that cries off from a promise. That’s women’s work.”
“No,” said Kennedy stiffening suddenly in backbone, as he saw the outlet opened by Maguire, between antagonizing Peter, and retracting his consent. “I don’t play baby. Not me.”
Peter stood thinking for a longer time than the others found comfortable. Maguire whistled to prove that he was quite at ease, but he would not have whistled if he had been.
“I think, Mr. Kennedy, that I’ll save you from the difficulty by nominating Mr. Porter myself,” said Peter finally.
“Good!” said Maguire; and Kennedy, reaching down into his hip pocket, produced a version of the holy text not yet included in any bibliography. Evidently the atmosphere was easier. “About your speech, Mr. Stirling?” continued the Senator.
“I shall say what I think right.”