“You knew about it?”
“Not that it would be to-morrow.”
“Is that why Senator Manning is coming to-night?”
“Probably.”
“Then that means——” Her voice broke in excitement.
“That our fate hangs in the balance.”
“Does it?”
“It looks like it.” He smiled at her through the smoke of his cigar. Her eyes shone with myriad points of light. “Not planning what you’ll wear at the inauguration, are you?” he teased her.
“No,” she said, “but wondering what you’ll say. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Don’t count your chickens yet, Rhoda,” he warned her. “We, both of us, know the thousand slips between the cup of consideration and the lip of nomination. We’ve gone through it all for other offices.”