From the time when she was a
child of four she had carried on a violent and highly appreciated
flirtation with "Cousin Billy," being the only person in the world who
employed the diminutive of his name.
"You knew Banneker before? But, of course. Everybody knows Banneker."
"It's quite wonderful, isn't it! He never makes an effort, I'm told.
People just come to him. Where did you meet him?"
Enderby told her. "We're allies, in a way. Though sometimes he is
against us. He's doing yeoman work in this reform mayoralty campaign. If
we elect Robert Laird, as I think we shall, it will be chiefly due to
The Patriot's editorials."
"Then you have confidence in Mr. Banneker?" she asked quickly.
"Well--in a way, I have," he returned hesitantly.
"But with reservations," she interpreted. "What are they?"
"One, only, but a big one. The Patriot itself. You see, Io, The Patriot
is another matter."
"Why is it another matter?"
"Well, there's Marrineal, for example."
"I don't know Mr. Marrineal. Evidently you don't trust him."
"I trust nobody," disclosed the lawyer, a little sternly, "who is
represented by what The Patriot is and does, whether it be Marrineal,
Banneker, or another." His glance, wandering about the room, fell on
Russell Edmonds, seated in a corner talking with the Great Gaines.
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