But you must find the General and make him come to
luncheon. I have arranged for the party in the English Room at the
hotel. You _must_ have him there!" She hurried away to where the ladies
were waiting for her.
Presson, the politician's instinct of self-preservation now getting the
better of his rancor, promptly determined that his own interests would
be helped by his wife's luncheon-party, provided the victor could be
cajoled and coralled. He put pride behind him. It was not so easy to do
as much with his shame and the downright fear that assailed him when he
reflected on his plot and its outcome. But he decided that although
little might be gained for him by making up to the victorious General, a
great deal would be surely lost if the antagonism were emphasized.
He put on his hat and hurried to the street. Inquiry at the cab-stand
afforded him the information that General Waymouth and his companion had
not given a definite destination. "But there's the man who took them,"
said the manager. "He's just back.
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