He tried to shake off this feeling but it clung, and at last in sheer
desperation, he promised to go out of a night with a fellow clerk who
rather boasted of the "people" he knew. He was soon tired of the
strange company, and had turned to go home, when he met a newcomer in
the doorway.
"Why, hello, Sam! Sam Stillings!" he exclaimed delightedly, and was soon
grasping the hand of a slim, well-dressed man of perhaps thirty, with
yellow face, curling hair, and shifting eyes.
"Well, of all things, Bles--er--ah--Mr. Alwyn! Thought you were hoeing
cotton."
Bles laughed and continued shaking his head. He was foolishly glad to
see the former Cresswell butler, whom he had known but slightly. His
face brought back unuttered things that made his heart beat faster and a
yearning surge within him.
"I thought you went to Chicago," cried Bles.
"I did, but goin' into politics--having entered the political field, I
came here. And you graduated, I suppose, and all that?"
"No," Bless admitted a little sadly, as he told of his coming north, and
of Senator Smith's influence. "But--but how are--all?"
Abruptly Sam hooked his arm into Alwyn's and pulled him with him down
the street. Stillings was a type. Up from servility and menial service
he was struggling to climb to money and power. He was shrewd, willing to
stoop to anything in order to win.
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