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The Port of Missing Men by Meredith Nicholson
page 87 of 323 (26%)
Billings' term--and I'm not sure I can go up against it."

"But you are nothing if not unselfish. If the good of the country demands
it you'll not falter, if I know you."

"There's hot water heat in this hotel, so please turn off the hot air. I
saw your foreman in Helena the last time I was out there, and he was
sober. I mention the fact, knowing that I'm jeopardizing my reputation
for veracity, but it's the Lord's truth. Of course you spent Christmas at
the old home in England--one of those yule-log and plum-pudding
Christmases you read of in novels. You Englishmen--"

"My dear Sanderson, don't call me English! I've told you a dozen times
that I'm not English."

"So you did; so you did! I'd forgotten that you're so damned sensitive
about it;" and Sanderson's eyes regarded Armitage intently for a moment,
as though he were trying to recall some previous discussion of the
young man's nativity.

"I offer you free swing at the bar, Senator. May I summon a Montana
cocktail? You taught me the ingredients once--three dashes orange
bitters; two dashes acid phosphate; half a jigger of whisky; half a
jigger of Italian vermuth. You undermined the constitutions of half
Montana with that mess."

Sanderson reached for his hat with sudden dejection.

"The sprinkling cart for me! I've got a nerve specialist engaged by the
year to keep me out of sanatoriums. See here, I want you to go with us
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