“You looked several,” said Peter.
Leonore regarded him very seriously. “You are not ‘Peter Simple’ a bit,” she said. “I don’t like deep men.” She turned and went to her room. “I really must be careful,” she told the enviable sponge as it passed over her face, “he’s a man who needs very special treatment. I ought to send him right back to New York. But I do so want to know about the politics. No. I’ll keep friends till the campaign’s finished. Then he’ll have to live in Albany, and that will make it all right. Let me see. He said the governor served three years. That isn’t five, but perhaps he’ll have become sensible before then.”
As for Peter, he actually whistled during his ablutions, which was something he had not done for many years. He could not quite say why, but it represented his mood better than did his earlier growl.
CHAPTER LII.
A GUARDIAN ANGEL.
Peter had as glorious an afternoon as he had had a bad morning. First he danced a little. Then the two sat at the big desk in the deserted library and worked together over those very complex dispatches till they had them translated. Then they had to discuss their import. Finally they had to draft answers and translate them into cipher. All this with their heads very close together, and an utter forgetfulness on the part of a certain personage that snubbing rather than politics was her “plan of campaign.” But Leonore began to feel that she was a political power herself, and so forgot her other schemes. When they had the answering dispatches fairly transcribed, she looked up at Peter and said:
“I think we’ve done that very well,” in the most approving voice. “Do you think they’ll do as we tell them?”
Peter looked down into that dearest of faces, gazing at him so frankly and with such interest, so very near his, and wondered what deed was noble or great enough to win a kiss from those lips. Several times that afternoon, it had seemed to him that he could not keep himself from leaning over and taking one. He even went so far now as to speculate on exactly what Leonore would do if he did. Fortunately his face was not given to expressing his thoughts. Leonore never dreamed how narrow an escape she had. “If only she wouldn’t be so friendly and confiding,” groaned Peter, even while absolutely happy in her mood. “I can’t do it, when she trusts me so.”
“Well,” said Leonore, “perhaps when you’ve done staring at me, you’ll answer my question.”
“I think they’ll do as we tell them,” smiled Peter. “But we’ll get word to-morrow about Dutchess and Steuben. Then we shall know better how the land lies, and can talk plainer.”