A great many people were likely to be affected by the personal
difficulties of Thatcher and Bassett. Even quiet Montgomery was teeming,
and on the way from the station he had met half a dozen acquaintances
who had paused to shake hands and say something about the political
situation. His ignorance of Bassett's real intentions, which presumably
the defiance of the "Courier" merely cloaked, was not without its
embarrassment. He had been known as a Bassett man; he had received and
talked to innumerable politicians of Bassett's party in the Boordman
Building; and during the four years of his identification with Bassett
he had visited most of the county seats on political and business
errands. The closeness of their association made all the more surprising
this sudden exclusion.
"I said 'say,'" repeated Miss Farrell, lightly touching the smooth cliff
of yellow hair above her brow with the back of her hand. "I was about to
give you a message from his majesty our king, but if you're on a pipe
dream don't let me call you home."
"Oh, yes; pardon me. What were you about to say?"
"Mr. Bassett said that if you came in before I quit to ask you to come
over to the Whitcomb. Mrs. Bassett blew in to-day from that sanatorium
in Connecticut where they've been working on her nerves. Miss Marian
brought her back, and they've stopped in town to rest.
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