Let her and falsehood grapple; who
ever knew truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter? Her
confuting is the best and surest suppressing.
Twice she read the pregnant message.
"I have it," said she gravely. "To keep--for always."
"Some day I'll put it at the head of The Patriot."
"Why not now?"
"Not ready. I want to be surer; absolutely sure."
"I'm sure," she declared superbly; "of you."
"You make me sure of myself, Io. But there's Marrineal."
"Yes; there's Marrineal. You must have a paper of your own, mustn't you,
Ban, eventually?"
"Perhaps. If I ever get enough money to own it absolutely."
"Only four years ago," she murmured, with apparent irrelevancy. "And
now--"
"When shall I see you again?" he asked anxiously as she rose. "Are you
coming Saturday night?"
"Of course," said Io.
Through the agency of Russell Edmonds, McClintick, the labor leader,
came to see Banneker. He was a stooping giant with a deep, melancholy
voice, and his attitude toward The Patriot was one of distrustful
reticence. Genuine ardor has, however, a warming influence. McClintick's
silence melted by degrees, not into confidence but, surprisingly, into
indignation, directed upon all the "capitalistic press" in general, but
in particular against The Patriot.
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