After Stewart had
halted in the hall, putting on the best face he could and evincing a
determination to stick the thing out, Senator Corson walked over and
offered to give the mayor the telegrams. "They're beginning to arrive from
Washington, sir. Better read 'em. They'll afford you a great deal of joy,
I'm sure."
Stewart shook his head, declining to receive the missives. He wanted to
tell the Senator that more joy right at that moment would overtask the
Morrison capacity.
"I wish I were younger and more of an opportunist," Corson avowed. "In
these guessing times among the booms, here is gas enough to inflate a
pretty good-sized presidential balloon." He waved the papers.
The Senator's tone was still rather ironical, but Stewart was seeking for
straws to buoy his new hopes; whether he was so recently away from Lana's
dark eyes that the encouragement in them lingered with him, he was not
sure. He felt, however, that the Senator's eyes did seem a little less
hard than the polished ebony they had resembled.
An awkward silence ensued. The Senator stood in front of the caller and
queried uncompromisingly with those eyes.
The caller, having been enjoined from babbling about the business that had
been transacted behind the screen in the library, had no excuse to offer
for hanging around there.
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