Читать книгу The 13th District. A Story of a Candidate онлайн

38 страница из 109

Garwood gasped at the thought of Emily’s father penetrating that situation.

“Never that!” he said, bringing his fist down on his knee. “Don’t you ever suggest such a thing, Emily, do you hear?” He turned and his eyes glowed as he looked at her. The girl laughed a little laugh of pride in him.

“I’m afraid, Jerome,” she began in a playful way, “that you don’t understand politics very well yourself.” And then she became serious, and sighed.

“But how noble you are! And how high minded! And how I love you for it!”

They sat there a long while after that, in the darkness. But they did not talk politics any more.

ssss1

WHEN the Alton’s early train drew out of the Canal Street station that morning, the last coach had its curtains drawn, with a touch of royal mystery. Though its polished panels were grimed from a long journey, though its roof lay deep in cinders, and though its gilt lettering was tarnished, still, as it moved onward with heavy dignity, it was plainly no ordinary car, for it rolled majestically at the end of that long train like some ship, to which clung the sentimental interest of a stormy voyage. As it passed, yardmen in blue overalls straightened their backs painfully and scrutinized it with professional eye, sometimes they swung their caps; laborers, men and women, on their morning way to work, halted by the crossing-gates and united in a cheer, their futile little celebration being dissipated by the clamor of the alarm bells, as the train whirled by in its cloud of dust, and the gates lifted to let the flood-tide of city life set in again for the day’s work.