rossing slowly to Franklin Street, he hesitated an instant on the
corner, and turned finally in the direction of his office. There was a
nearer way down town, but he always chose this one because experience
had taught him that if pretty women were abroad here they would be
found. With the same instinct of enjoyment he might have gone out of his
way daily to pass the window of a florist.

As he walked on in the spring sunshine he held his handsome head erect,
blowing the smoke of his cigar in the scented air. He moved leisurely,
finding life too good to be wasted in rushing. The soft atmosphere; the
fragrance of his fine cigar; the beauty of the women he passed--these
sufficed to bring the glow of animation to his smooth, full face.

Once he stopped to shake hands with pretty Emma Carr, detaining her by a
jest and a laugh--and again he paused to exchange a word with Juliet
Galt, who was at her window. It was only when he turned into the
business street again that he brought his mind to bear upon less
engaging subjects.

Then it was that he remembered he had delivered the evening before his
most successful oration. He had spoken to a large audience upon
"Personal Morality in Politics," and he had received an appreciation
that was prolonged and thundering. When it was over some one had called
him a "greater orator than Withers," to add quickly, "and a better
Democrat than Burr." He could still see the whimsical smile Burr had
turned upon the speaker, and he could still feel his own sense of
elation.

Well, as for that matter, he was a better Democrat than Burr--if to be a
better Democrat meant to place the party will above his personal
opinion. After all, what was a party for if not to unite individual
effort and to combine individual differences? If organisation was not
worth the sacrifice of personal prejudices it might as well dissolve
before the next election day. It was, of course, a pity that a man like
Burr should dissent from the views of important politicians, but one
might as well talk of a ship without officers as of a party without
organised leaders. It was a pity from Burr's point of view, he was
willing to admit, but so long as Burr would make trouble it was just as
well that the ill wind should blow his own side good--he was honestly
glad that it had blown Rann's influence in his direction. He had never
felt more hopeful of anything in his life than he now felt of the
senatorship. Indeed, he was inclined