en he arrived after Wandel's departure, didn't want to
confess, but George knew how to get it out of him.

"You've put your finger in my pie without my consent," he said. "I'll
hold that against you unless you talk up. Besides, it won't go beyond
Goodhue and me. It's just for our information."

"All right," Rogers agreed, nervously, "provided it doesn't go out of
this room. And there's no point mentioning names. A man we all know came
to me this morning and talked about the split in the class. He couldn't
get Goodhue elected because he didn't have any way of buying the support
of the poor men. Allen, he figured, was going to nominate a lame duck,
and then have somebody not too rich and not too poor spring his own
name, figuring he would get the votes of the bulk of the class which
just can't help being jealous of Goodhue and his little crowd. This chap
thought he could beat Allen at that game by stampeding the class for you
before Allen could get himself up, and he wanted somebody representative
of the bulk of the class, that holds the balance of power, to put you in
nomination. He figured even the poor men would flock to you in spite of
Allen's opposition."

"And what did he offer you?" George sneered.

Rogers turned away without answering.

"Like Driggs," Goodhue said, when Rogers had gone. "He couldn't have
what he wanted, but he got about as good. Politically, what's the
difference? Both offices are in his crowd, but he's avoided making you
look like his president."

George grinned.

"I don't wonder you call him Spike."

XXV

George, filled with a cold triumph, stared for a long time at Sylvia's
portrait that night. If she thought of him at all she would have to
admit he had come closer. At Princeton he was as big a man as her rich
brother was at Yale. He belonged to a club where her own kind gathered.
Give him money--and he was going to have that--and her attitude must
alter. He bent the broken crop between his fingers, his triumph fading.
He had come closer, but not close enough to hurt.

The Baillys and Betty congratulated him at practice the next day.

"You were the logical man," Betty said, "but the politicians didn't seem
to want you."

Bailly drew him aside.

"It was scandal in the forum," he said, "that money and the clubs were
an issue in this election."

George fingered his headgear, laughing unpleasantly.

"Yes, and they elected a poor man; a low sort of a fellow with a
shadowed past