"Why be both?" he asked.
"That rings hollow, Mr. Seabury, after your tribute to my voice!... Suppose I were queen. I'd hold a caucus, too. Please say you'd come."
"Oh, I am already there!"
"That won't help you; it isn't first come, first served at my caucus!... So, suppose millions of suitors were all sitting around twisting their fingers in abashed hopeful silence."
"Exactly."
"What do you think I'd do, Mr. Seabury?"
"Run. I should."
"No; I should make them a speech—a long one—oh, dreadfully long and wearisome. I should talk and talk and talk, and repeat myself, and pile platitude on platitude, and maunder on and on and on. And about luncheon-time I should have a delicious repast served me, and I'd continue my speech as I ate. And after that I'd ramble on and on until dinner-time. And I should dine magnificently up there on the dais, and, between courses, I'd continue my speech——"
"You'd choose the last man to go to sleep," he said simply.