His meanness now became contemptible; he felt her trembling hands on his brow; the fragrant, tearful face nearer, nearer, until her hot, flushed cheeks and quivering lips touched his. And yet, incredible as it seems, and to the everlasting shame of all his sex, he kept eyes and mouth shut until a lively knocking on the door brought him bolt upright.
She uttered a little cry and shrank away from him on her knees, the tears glimmering in her startled and wide open eyes.
"Good heavens, darling!" he said seriously; "how on earth are we going to explain this?"
They scrambled hastily to their feet and gazed at each other while kicks and blows began to rain on the door.
"I believe it's Dill," he whispered; "and I seem to hear the Mayor's voice, too."
"Help! Help! For heaven's sake!" screamed the Mayor, "let us in, George! There's a mob of suffragettes coming up the stairs!"
The Governor unlocked the door and jerked it open, just as several unusually beautiful girls seized Mr. Dill and the Military Secretary.
The Mayor, however, rushed blindly into the room, his turban-swirl was over one eye, his skirt was missing, his apron hung by one pin.
He ran headlong for a sofa and tried to scramble under it, but lovely and vigorous arms seized his shins and drew him triumphantly forth.
"Hurrah!" they cried delightedly, "we have carried the entire ticket!"