"
"He said--" Rose began warily; and then gave him an opportunity to cut
her short.
"What did he say?"
"Oh, he was hot! He said if you came in before he found you, to say that
if you and Ramsay didn't help him deliver the freight to-day he would
get action to-morrow; that that's the limit."
"He said to-morrow, did he? Very well, Rose. That's all."
Rose, virtuously indexing the letter-book, saw Harwood as he idly ranged
the rooms try the hall door to make sure it was bolted. Then he stood at
the window of his own room, staring at nothing. The telephone chimed
cheerfully at intervals. Ramsay sought him; Thatcher had stationed one
of his allies at a telephone booth in the State House corridor to call
the office at regular intervals. Newspaper reporters demanded to know
where Harwood could be found; the governor, rankling under the criticism
he had brought upon his party by the special session, wished to see
Harwood to learn when, if possible, the legislature would take itself
home. To these continual importunities Rose replied in tones of
surprise, regret, or chagrin, as the individual case demanded, without
again troubling her employer. The index completed, she filed papers,
smoothed her yellow hair at the wash stand, exchanged fraternal signals
with a girl friend in the office opposite, and read the "Courier's"
report of the senatorial struggle with complete understanding of its
intricacies.
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