The other love was a vague something that troubled
him. Madeleine Presson was near and visible, and he did not dissect the
emotion which prompted him to seek her.
She came down to the reception-room. He had sent up an urgent request.
"No," she said, with a smile, after she had listened, "I think I'll put
your loyalty to the test! If I'm always to be the minority report in
your estimation, Mr. Legislator, it's time now to find it out. You put
Governor Waymouth and your politics first, do you?"
"But you haven't given me the right to put you first," he returned,
boldly.
"Just how was I to go about giving you that right?" she inquired, with
demure sarcasm. "Memorialize you, Mr. Representative, or throw it at you
from the House gallery, concealed in a bouquet?"
In spite of the waiting Governor outside he started toward her, his
arms outstretched, his heart rushing to his lips. Her taunt--it seemed
like that--made him desperate.
"Madeleine, I tried to tell you--I know it seemed a strange place, but I
couldn't wait--I want to tell you now--"
She eluded him, and stopped him with a word.
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