“It isn't necessary to tell me that,” said Hilary.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I know it.”
“To put it mildly,” the president of the Northeastern continued, “it's the worst mixed-up campaign I ever knew. Here we are with the convention only two days off, and we don't know where we stand, how many delegates we've got, or whether this upstart at Leith is going to be nominated over our heads. Here's Adam Hunt with his back up, declaring he's a reformer, and all his section of the State behind him. Now if that could have been handled otherwise—”
“Who told Hunt to go in?” Hilary inquired.
“Things were different then,” said Mr. Flint, vigorously. “Hunt had been promised the governorship for a long time, and when Ridout became out of the question—”
“Why did Ridout become out of the question?” asked Hilary.
Mr. Flint made a gesture of impatience.
“On account of that foolishness in the Legislature, of course.”
“That foolishness in the Legislature, as you call it, represented a sentiment all over the State,” said Hilary. “And if I'd been you, I wouldn't have let Hunt in this year. But you didn't ask my opinion. You asked me when you begged me to get Adam out, and I predicted that he wouldn't get out.”