“How’ll you like being secretary to the Governor, Miss Lanier?” asked Caleb, as he lighted his cigar and stretched out his thick legs under the table. “Fully as much as you’ll like being Governor, I fancy,” she answered. “I guess you won’t have to be very much wedded to the job at that,” sighed Conover. “Do you know, I’d give a year’s income if I’d never made that measly speech. But now that I’m in for it, I’m going to make the fight of my life. Everybody in the Mountain State will sure know there’s been a big scrap, and when it’s over, our young friend, Standish, is going to be just a sweet, sad memory.” “I hear he is making some strong speeches.” “And I hear you went to hear a couple of them,” retorted Caleb, grinning. “Do you mean,” she cried indignantly, “that you’ve actually been spying on me? You have dared to——?” “Now, _don’t_ get woozey, Miss Lanier. What on earth would I spy on _you_ for? Your time, outside work hours, is your own. And besides, I’ve got all sorts of proof that you’re always loyal to my interests.” “Then how——” “How’d I find it out? While I don’t keep tabs on _you_, I do keep tabs on Nephew-in-law Standish, and on his meetings and what sort of people go there. And a couple of times my men happened to mention that they saw my pretty secretary in the audience. There, now, don’t get red. What harm is there in being found out? Only it kind of amused me that you never spoke about it here.” “Why should I? I——” “No reason at all. A person’s got a right to lock up what’s in their minds as well as what’s in their pockets. I always have a lot of respect for folks who keep their mouths shut. If you keep your mouth shut about your own affairs, you’ll keep it shut about mine. That’s why I have a kind of sneaking respect for liars, too. Folks who guard what’s in their brains by making a false trail with their mouths. The public’s got no more right to the contents of a man’s brain than it has to the contents of his safe. And the man who ain’t ashamed to lock his safe needn’t be ashamed to tell a lie.” “Is that your own philosophy? It’s a dangerous one.” “Oh, I’m not speaking of the man who lies for the fun of it. Telling a lie when you don’t need to is tempting Providence.” The girl laughed; so simple and so totally in earnest was he in expounding his pet theory. It was only to her that the Railroader was in the habit of talking on abstruse themes. Despite her habitual reserve, he read an underlying interest in his odd ideas and experiences, and was accordingly lavish in relating them. She served, unconsciously to both, as an escape valve for the man’s habitual dominating self-restraint. “So you agree with Talleyrand,” she suggested, “that words are given us to hide our thoughts?”