"
"Just think of it, one hundred and fifteen more votes would have given
you the election. It seems hard to have missed it by so little. You
mustn't think me a goose about you, Fred," she added, after a
thoughtful pause. "I don't usually praise you to your face and make an
undue fuss about you, do I, dear? I think I am disposed to be critical
of you rather than otherwise. But you are so much superior to the men
they generally put up, that I'm unable to reconcile myself to the idea
that you're not to be anything distinguished after all. Of course I
didn't really expect that you were going to be very great; and yet in
politics one cannot always tell. Men no more remarkable than you have
been elected President; though I'm not at all sure that I should have
cared to have you in the White House."
"Yet you will not cease to love me now that I am doomed to be only a
poor private citizen for the rest of my days?" I asked, fondly, as my
arm stole around her waist, which, though no longer wisp-like as of
yore, is shapely still. "Poor, too, in every sense," I added,
unpleasantly reminded by the pressure of the check-book in my
coat-pocket of my sadly diminished bank account.
"I am afraid I should continue to love you, Fred, even if you were
bad--a Daniel Spinney or a Nicholas Long, for example," she answered,
imprinting a kiss upon my cheek.
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