"Oh, in that case, I should ask her anyway—and get her too, I think. I'm merely trying to do my duty by you, don't you see."
Wilkinson raised his hand and brought it down heavily upon the Governor's shoulder once more.
"Governor," he said, "you've always done right by me, and I believe you always will—I've that much faith in you. As for the rest, I don't know of any man that I'd rather trust my daughter Leslie to, than you."
Beekman's blood rushed tumultuously through his veins.
"I don't deserve——" he began quite formally, but Wilkinson cut him off.
"You understand," said he, searching his face, "that your being Governor makes no difference to me. I give you Leslie because I like you—I think you're a man."
Beekman left the room intoxicated with success. Indeed such was the magnetism of Peter V. that Beekman left his presence, like many a man before him, with a feeling that he would be willing to face death, if necessary, in Wilkinson's defence.
The girl was waiting where he had left her.
"Leslie," he began and got no further, for the words that he had planned to say would not come to him. Finally he stammered out: "It's this way, you see. We're equals now—that is, you're the daughter of Peter V. Wilkinson and I'm the Governor of the State. Consequently I dare—oh, I want you—there!"
Leslie tried to pass him, but he was too quick for her. He caught her and drew her close to him, and for one instant his lips met hers. Then she wrenched herself away.