"I am greatly indebted—I was given to understand that it was disagreeable to you—like—politics—ah! Cousin Ann."
"We are not much given to talking politics," she said rather sharply.
"Not talk politics!" exclaimed Grey. "What else is there to talk about nowadays? But why not, Cousin Ann?"
"Well, merely because while I am Southern—and a Democrat, James has seen fit to abandon our party and become a Republican."
"Incomprehensible!" said Grey. "Ours is the party of gentlemen—of old traditions. I cannot understand it."
"Nor I," said she, "but now at least," and she laughed—"there will be one Republican gentleman. However, George, as we are both much in earnest, we keep politics out of the house."
"It must be rather awkward, Ann."
"What must be rather awkward?"
Did he really mean to discuss, to criticize her relations to James
Penhallow? The darkness was for a time the grateful screen.
Grey, a courteous man, felt the reproof in her question, and replied, "I beg pardon, my dear Ann, I have heard of the captain's unfortunate change of opinion. I shall hope, however, to be able to convince him that to elect Fremont will be to break up the Union. I think I could put it so clearly that—"