One hundred dollars a
month in advance! This, Mr. Harwood, is private and confidential. I
guess I haven't worked at the State House without learning a few tricks
in this mortal vale of politics."
She had calculated nicely the effect of this shot. Harwood might treat
her, as she said, like a step-child with a harelip, but occasionally she
made him sit up. He sat up now. He remarked with the diplomatic
unconcern that it was best to employ with her:--
"Refused the offer, did you, Miss Farrell?"
"I certainly did. As between a fat old sport like Ed Thatcher and a
gentleman like Mr. Bassett, money doesn't count--not even with a
p.w.g., or poor working girl, like me. Hush!--are we quite alone?" She
bent toward the door dramatically. "What he was playing for, as neat as
a hatpin in your loved one's eye, was some facts about the boss's
committee work in that last session I worked at the State House. Cute of
Thatcher? Well, not so awful bright! He doesn't know what he's up
against if he thinks Mort Bassett can be caught on flypaper, and you can
be dead sure I'm not going to sprinkle the sugar to catch our boss with.
All that Transportation Committee business was just as straight as the
way home; but"--Miss Farrell tapped her mouth daintily with her fingers
to stifle an imaginary yawn--"but little Rose brought down her shorthand
notebooks marked 'M.
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