``You can choose it, though you're a woman,'' rejoined he.
``Marry me, and we'll go up together. You've no idea how
exciting campaigns and elections are. A little while, and you'll
be crazy about it all. The women are taking part, more and
more.''

``Who's Victor Dorn?'' she suddenly asked.

``You must remember him. It was his father that was killed by
the railway the day we all went on that excursion to
Indianapolis.''

``Dorn the carpenter,'' said Jane. ``Yes--I remember.'' Her
face grew dreamy with the effort of memory. ``I see it all
again. And there was a boy with a very white face who knelt and
held his head.''

``That was Victor,'' said Hull.

``Yes--I remember him. He was a bad boy--always fighting and
robbing orchards and getting kept after school.''

``And he's still a bad boy--but in a different way. He's out
against everything civilized and everybody that's got money.''

``What does he do? Keep a saloon?''

``No, but he spends a lot of time at them. I must say for him
that he doesn't drink--and professes not to believe in drink.
When I pointed out to him what a bad example he set, loafing