After the nomination, the preliminary notification followed at Sea Girt a few days later. Here again was an opportunity to study human nature. Most of the defeated competitors for the nomination came and tendered their hearty congratulations. But Clark came like one who was attending the funeral of his hopes. He could not master his disappointment, nor conceal it. His depression lay upon the gathering like a cloud. It was so palpable that Tumulty saw that something must be done to lift it, else the proper spirit of the occasion would be destroyed. Tumulty then came to me, and suggested that Clark be taken for a ride. I approached Clark, and invited him to use my car. He accepted and asked if he might go anywhere he wished, and, of course, my reply was, “Certainly.” He then explained that his daughter was visiting in the neighbourhood, and he would like to see her. Filling the car with his friends, they drove away, with my son, Henry Morgenthau, Jr., at the wheel. When my son came back, he had a broad smile on his countenance. “Where do you suppose,” he exclaimed, “Clark asked me to take him? His daughter is staying with George Harvey’s daughter!” The “George Harvey” to whom my son referred was, of course, Mr. Wilson’s former supporter with whom he had recently had a much-advertised disagreement, and who is now Mr. Harding’s much-discussed Ambassador in London. Here was a dilemma! I had already told Governor Wilson that Clark had gone to visit his daughter, and that she was staying with friends in the neighbourhood, and he had said: “I shall see that my daughters call on her.” Now, I had to tell him who “the friends in the neighbourhood” were. When I did so, he only smiled, and said: “That’s rather awkward, isn’t it?” CHAPTER IX THE CAMPAIGN OF 1912