“Are you sure that you want to plunge into politics, Io?” Banneker asked, looking down at her as she seated herself in the cushioned chaise longue.
Her mouth smiled assent, but her eyes were intent and serious. He dropped the proof into her lap, bending over and kissing her lips as he did so. For a moment her fingers interlaced over his neck.
“I’ll understand it,” she breathed, interpreting into his caress a quality of pleading.
Before she had read halfway down the column, she raised to him a startled face. “Are you sure, Ban?” she interrogated.
“Read the rest,” he suggested.
She complied. “What a terrible power little things have,” she sighed. “That would make me despise Laird.”
“A million other people will feel the same way to-morrow.”
“To-morrow? Is it to be published so soon?”
“In the morning’s issue.”
“Ban; is it true? Did he say that?”