"Well," she persisted, and he saw that her lips were growing rigid, "I think we need conscience in our politics, whether it's New England or not." Garwood laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. "I'm afraid it wouldn't win. A conscience, Emily, is about as great an impediment to a practical politician in these days as it is to a successful lawyer." "Don't be cynical, Jerome," she pleaded. And she thought again. "Did you promise Hale the post-office for getting you those Tazewell County votes?" "Of course I did," said Garwood, "what of it?" "I don't like it," said Emily. "You don't?" "No, dear, I don't." "What would you have me do? Give it to some fellow over there who was against me?" "N-n-n-no," she said, "but--" "But what?" he went on. "You liked it when I told you I was going to--take care of Rankin, didn't you?" "That's different," she said. "Oh, a woman's logic!" he laughed. "You don't believe in buying votes, do you, Jerome?" she asked, with her lips still tense so that they showed a little line of white at the edges of their red. "No." "But you do believe in buying them with offices. What's the post-office at Pekin worth?" "Oh, eighteen hundred, I reckon." "Eighteen hundred--for four years; let's see--four eights--thirty-two; hum-m-m, four ones--three--seven; seven--thousand, isn't it?" "Well, you're not very good at figures, but you've nearly hit it--within two hundred." "I never could multiply in my mind," Emily confessed. "But you wouldn't think it right to give a man seven thousand dollars in money for a delegation from the county, would you?" "No," Garwood answered, "that's too high. You're getting into senatorial figures now." He laughed again. "Do be serious, Jerome. I don't see the difference myself." "No, a woman couldn't--women never could understand politics, anyhow." "Well, I understand this--that I have learned a good deal about politics, and my ideas have been changed. I used to think that in this country the people arose and elected their best man to represent them, but it seems that the representative elects himself, and then the people--" "Don't you think the people out here elected their best man when I went in?" Garwood asked, with an honest laugh in his eyes. She bent over impulsively and kissed him. "Yes, I do," she said, "but I'm speaking generally now." "No, you're not," Garwood insisted, "women can't speak generally. It's always a personal, concrete question with them." "Well, you know, Jerome, I've had my ideals--in politics, too, since you interested me in politics." "You weren't interested in politics, you were interested in one politician, and that politician was--me." "Well, you--you were my ideal, and I thought of you as I thought of Patrick Henry, in the old Virginia House of Burgesses, and--"