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ed to the right, where the car should be waiting her. It was gone. Evidently the indignant Mrs. Brewster-Smith had expedited the departure. Miss Eliot read her discomfiture. "My car is right down here behind that palatial mansion with the hole in the roof and the tin-can extension. Thank you very much for your escort," she added, turning to the two representatives of the Protective League. "My name, by the way, is E. Eliot. I am a real-estate agent and my office is at 22 Braston Street. You might mention it in your report." The little car stood waiting, surrounded by a group of admiring children. Its owner stepped in briskly, backed around and received her passengers. "Well," she smiled as they drew out on the traveled highway, "how do you like the purlieus of our noble little city?" Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with conviction. "When George is in power--and he's _got_ to be--the Law will be the Law. I know him." CHAPTER XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK George Remington walked toward headquarters with more assurance than he felt. He resented Doolittle's command that he appear at once. He was beginning to realize the pressure which these campaign managers were bringing to bear upon him. He was not sure yet how far he could go, in out-and-out defiance of them and their dictates. He knew that he had absolutely no ambitions, no interests in common with these schemers, whose sole idea lay in party patronage, in manipulating every political opportunity--in short, in reaping where they had sown. The question now confronting him was this: was he prepared to sell his political birthright for the mess of pottage they offered him? He stood a second at the door of the office, peering through the reeking, smoke-filled atmosphere, to get a bird's-eye view of the situation before he entered. Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table monologuing to Wes' Norton and Pat Noonan. Mr. Norton was the president of the Whitewater Commercial Club, composed of the leading merchants of the town, and Mr. Noonan was the apostle of the liquor interests. Remington felt his back stiffen as he stepped among them. "Good-evening, gentlemen," he said briskly. "H'are ye, George?" drawled Doolittle. "There was something you wanted to discuss with me?" "I dunno as there's anything to discuss, but there's a few things Wes' an' Pat an' me'd like to say to ye. There ain't no two ways of thinkin' about the prosperity o
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