"How I wish father could have heard you a moment ago!" cried the girl, wistfully. "He would then understand what genuine loyalty is. He thinks every man he knows, and every woman, too, I guess, save me, is a time server. Every man has his price, according to his idea. I don't believe he thinks that he has a genuine friend in all the world—not one. Isn't it hopeless to suspect everyone like that?"
"How can he help it?" returned Beekman, pointedly. "Just what I told you about the rich American girl—how is she going to know, understand the motives of men ...?"
Leslie's face went suddenly white; then she suggested almost too hastily, so she reflected later:
"If you want to see my father, remember he's in the Den." And an instant later Beekman found himself standing in the presence of Peter V. Wilkinson.
In his exuberance of joy Wilkinson almost flung himself at Beekman. He grasped the other's hand with both of his, then clapped him heavily on the shoulder.
"Governor, my boy, you made a grand fight—a great fight! You're the right man in the right place! Proud of you, I am."
"Now about the Appellate Division ..." began Beekman, but Wilkinson would have none of it.
"Not on your life!" said he. "Never mind me! No troubles to-night—only wine and wassail. All Governor and nothing else. The returns are all in, aren't they? No contests—nothing doubtful—sure thing—you're Governor and no mistake?"
"No mistake, Mr. Wilkinson," smiled Beekman. "It's all right."