"Burke's crowd has given me two dollars. If you'll make it
three, I'll vote for your candidate."

"We are not buying votes, sir," replied the Judge's wife. "We have no
respect for a man who will sell his vote. But we will give you, in
return for yours, the satisfaction of feeling that you are a man among
men; that you are doing the right and honorable thing, and that you are
helping to establish an honest government here in Roma. Isn't your
manhood worth more than two or even three dollars to you?"

"Well," returned the man after a speechless moment, "I'll be dinged if
it isn't! I am going to vote for you, anyhow." Which he proceeded to do,
although in somewhat maudlin fashion.

At ward three, Miss Van Deusen came face to face with John Allingham. It
was an awkward moment for both. Gertrude flushed, but she carried her
head high, and said "Good morning," with so much cordiality that
Allingham felt more awkward than ever.

All night he had slept but fitfully, and in his wakeful hours had
regretted with self-denunciation, that his name was to be voted upon
that day. In his waking dreams he had thought once of withdrawing his
candidacy, even at the polls. When he slept, he was riding once more,
through the beautiful night--not alone, locked into the cab--but with
Gertrude Van Deusen beside him, talking in her sweet musical voice, of
things far removed from Roma and its dirty politics. The mobile face,
the starry eyes, the delicate perfume that enwrapped her, lingered with
him, and when he waked, it was difficult to cast the memory aside and to
gather his wits for the fight which he must make against her that day,
for an office he did not want;--but on the other hand, more than ever
did he want her not to have it. That beautiful and gracious young woman
he told himself, endowed with rare graces of mind and soul,--she must
not be allowed to soil herself with the political machinery at City
Hall. She had been misguided, led into this candidacy by those other
women, strong-minded suffragists. Was it not his duty to get out and
work for her defeat?

And so he arose and dressed, and although hotly opposed by his
women-folk, who thought he should stay in bed and be carefully nursed
for a week, he went forth, his face adorned with surgeon's plaster and
his heart full of mixed motives, to the fray.

"You are none the worse for your ride?" he said to her. "You are sure
you were not hurt?"

"No, not a bit," laughed Gertrude.