Peter Knight flung himself into the decrepit arm-chair beside the center-table and growled:
"Isn't that just my luck? And me a Democrat for twenty years. There's nothing in politics, Jimmy."
His son James smiled crookedly, with a languid tolerance bespeaking amusement and contempt. James prided himself upon his forbearance, and it was rarely indeed that he betrayed more than a hint of the superiority which he felt toward his parent.
"Politics is all right, provided you're a good picker," he said, with all the assurance of twenty-two, "but you fell off the wrong side of the fence, and you're sore."
"Of course I am. Wouldn't anybody be sore?"
"These country towns always go in for the reform stuff, every so often.
If you'd listen to me and-"
|Product dimensions:||5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 1.01(d)|