"I know Mr. Costell. I haven't met the dishonest politician yet."

"You mean?"

"He hasn't shown me the side the papers talk about."

"And when he does?"

"I shall be very sorry, for I like him, and I like his wife." Then Peter
told about the little woman who hated politics and loved flowers, and
about the cool, able manager of men, who could not restrain himself from
putting his arms about the necks of his favorite horses, and who had
told about the death of one of his mares with tears in his eyes. "He had
his cheek cut open by a kick from one of his horses once, and he speaks
of it just as we would speak of some unintentional fault of a child."

"Has he a great scar on his cheek?"

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"Once. Just as we were coming out of the convention. He said something
about you to a group of men which called my attention to him." Miss De
Voe thought Peter would ask her what it was. "Would you like to know
what he said?" she asked, when Peter failed to do so.

"I think he would have said it to me, if he wished me to hear it."

Miss De Voe's mind reverted to her criticism of Peter. "He is so
absolutely without our standards." Her chair suddenly ceased to be