"Well, anyhow," said Mixley, "if he hasn't got the machine and the brewers and the twenty-five-thousand-dollar assemblymen back of him, he's got the people, all right. They know he's honest."
"Oh, yes, he's honest, and they know it," assented the other. "But hang it! The people can't get him into the Senate. It takes more than the people—it takes good money to do that. At least," he added emphatically, "it always has, up to date."
Mixley shook his head.
"If he only had half a million behind him now...."
The other snorted.
"It's well he hasn't—well he never had. If he had half a million, he wouldn't be running for United States Senator! Just like as not, he'd be playin' golf or running a devil wagon."
"Gee, what a scorcher he'd be!"
"And he'd be so loaded with golf medals," added the other, "that he couldn't walk."
"Well, it's a man's fight he's got on hand, now, and no mistake—and with nothing but his honesty to back him."
The three visitors had been listeners to this conversation in silence; but Shirley could contain herself no longer; and turning to her companions, she said sneeringly:—