"Well," said Doolittle rising, as if such things were hardly worth his valuable time, "I fail to see the difference between a suffragette an' a woman who goes pokin' her nose into what——"
"You're speaking of my wife, Mr. Doolittle," said George, with a significant lighting of the eye.
"Speakin' in general," said Doolittle.
Uncle Martin was interested. "Has Genevieve been—well, we won't say poking the nose—but taking a responsible civic interest where it would be better if she didn't?"
"It seems," answered George, casting an angry glance at his campaign manager, "that Mr. Doolittle has heard from a friend of his who overheard a conversation between Betty Sheridan and my wife at luncheon. From this he inferred that the two were planning an investigation of some of the city's problems."
Uncle Martin looked relieved.
"Oh, your wife and your stenographer. That can be stopped, I suppose, without undue exertion."
"Betty is no longer my stenographer."
"Left, has she?" said Jaffry. "I had an idea she would not stay with you long."
This intimation was not agreeable to George. He would have liked to explain that Miss Sheridan's departure had been dictated by the will of the head of the firm; in fact he opened his mouth to do so. But the remembrance that this would entail a long and wearisome exposition of his reasons caused him to remain silent, and his uncle went on: "Well, anyhow, you can get Geneviève to drop it."