"There are certain passages in your life, Mr. Garwood, which just now--"
"So that's the game, is it?" he said. His tone was low, for he was calculating carefully the part he had to play.
The little man was revolving his straw hat on the head of his stick, and he wore a grin about his moist mouth. Garwood had mastered his anger, but Pusey had to wait some time before he spoke. Presently he did so.
"I'll tell you, Pusey," he said, "you know Jim Rankin is running my campaign, and I have promised him not to take any steps without consulting him. We've had all sorts of callers here, white and black, cranks, mind readers, palmists, faith curists and men with votes in their vest pockets, and I've adopted the rule of turning over to him every one who comes. I'll speak to him about your case, and you may call around to-morrow and see him."
When Pusey had gone, Garwood burst upon Rankin, his face white with anger.
"What'n hell's the matter?" asked Rankin, letting his feet fall from the desk.
Garwood, digging his clenched fists into his trousers' pockets, paced the floor, swearing angrily.
Garwood paused by the window, still breathing hard.
"Well," he said presently, "he claims to."
Rankin drew himself upright with the difficulty of a fat man, and leaned towards Garwood.
Garwood gave an impatient fling of his head. He turned then, drew a chair up to the desk, and sat down, facing Rankin. But Rankin spoke first.
"Some more of that newspaper rot 'bout the Ford bill?"
"Oh, I suppose so," said Garwood wearily. "I reckon I'll never hear the last of that."
"Oh, well," Rankin said, "to hell with it. Let him print it!"
"But damn it," Garwood went on, "it's serious with me--just now--at any rate."
"Aw, cheer up," said Rankin, "that won't cut any figure with you--it won't lose a vote."
"No, but it may lose me something else--" Garwood spoke with a significance that Rankin could not instantly appreciate. "Of course," Garwood continued "there was nothing in it, but then--you know, a woman--"
The big fellow vented a little whistle, and then kept his lips puckered up to aid his thought.
"What can we do?" said Garwood, who could not then, in such a mood, endure the delay of silence.
"Well," said Rankin, "let me think, I can't straighten it out all at once. It 'as al'ays hard fer me to mix politics and business, or politics and religion, or politics and--" He was a sentimental man who feared to show his sentiment, and he did not speak the tender word of many meanings. But under the influence of the twilight, perhaps because they could not see each other's face, they talked confidentially, until the gloom of evening was expanding in the room. Then Rankin took out his watch and tried to read its dial.