The only moments
that this atmosphere seemed to yield at all was when Peter took a very
miscellaneous collection of rubbish out of a little sachet, meant for
handkerchiefs, which he now carried in his breast-pocket, and touched
the various articles to his lips. Then for a time he would look a little
less suicidal.
But it was astonishing the amount of work he did, the amount of reading
he got through, the amount of politics he bossed, and the cigars he
smoked, between the first of June, and the middle of August The
party-leaders had come to the conclusion that Peter did not intend to
take a hand in this campaign, but, after his return from Washington,
they decided otherwise. "The President must have asked him to
interfere," was their whispered conclusion, "but it's too late now. It's
all cut and dried."
Peter found, as this remark suggested, that his two months' devotion to
the dearest of eyes and sweetest of lips, had had serious results. As
with Mutineer once, he had dropped his bridle, but there was no use in
uttering, as he had, then, the trisyllable which had reduced the horse
to order.
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