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Day, Holman (Holman Francis), 1865-1935

"All-Wool Morrison"

"We will not let go!" he said, calmly. "We won't let
go--and this is not profanity, Senator Corson--we won't let go of as much
as one dam-site!"


X
A SENATOR SIZES UP A FOE

After Stewart had closed the door behind himself Senator Corson rose
hastily. For a few moments he surveyed the panels of the oaken portal with
the intentness of one who was studying a problem on a printed page. Then,
plainly, his thoughts went traveling beyond the closed door. But he
appeared to be receiving no satisfaction from his scrutiny or from his
thoughts. He scowled and muttered.
He stared into the palms of his soiled gloves; the suggestion they offered
did not improve his temper. He ripped them from his hands. "What the
mischief ails 'em, down here? They're all more or less slippery, Daunt!
I've been sensing it all the evening! I feel as if I'd been handling
eels."
Banker Daunt was calming himself by a patrol of the room.
"I can view matters like a statesman when I'm in the Senate Chamber,"
Corson asserted, "but down here at home these days I can't see the forest
on account of the trees! I don't know what tree to climb first, Daunt, I
swear I don't! What with North getting the party into this scrape it's in,
and playing his sharp politics, and this power question fight and--and--"
He gazed at the door again.


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