She had dressed herself carefully for the occasion in a black gown that followed closely the lines of her figure.  Her beauty, which a painter in Europe had once compared to a lamp, was still so radiant that it seemed to drain the colour and light from her surroundings.  Even Patty, with her fresh youth, lost a little of her vividness beside the glowing maturity of the other woman.  When Corinna had accepted the girl’s invitation, she had resolved that she would do her best; that, however tiresome it was, she would “carry it off.”  Always a match for any situation that did not include Kent Page or a dangerous emotion, she felt entirely competent to “manage,” as Mrs. Culpeper would have said, the most radical of Governors.  She liked the man in spite of his errors; she was sincerely attached to Patty; and their artless respect for her opinion gave her a sense of power which she told herself merrily was “almost political.”  Though the Governor might be without the rectitude which both Benham and Stephen regarded as fundamental, she perceived clearly that, even if Vetch were lacking in the particular principle involved, he was not devoid of some moral excellence which filled not ignobly the place where principle should have been.  She was prepared to concede that the Governor was a man of many defects and a single virtue; but this single virtue impressed her as more tremendous than any combination of qualities that she had ever encountered.  She admitted that, from Benham’s point of view, Vetch was probably not to be trusted; yet she felt instinctively that she could trust him.  The two men, she told herself tolerantly, were as far apart as the poles.  That the cardinal virtue Vetch possessed in abundance was the one in which Benham was inadequate had not occurred to her; for, at the moment, she could not bring herself to acknowledge that any admirable trait was absent from the man whom she intended to marry.

“You would make a splendid president, Father,” Patty was insisting.

“Well, I’m inclined to think that you’re right,” Vetch responded whimsically, “but you’ll have to convince a few others of that, I reckon, before we begin to plan for the White House.  First of all, you’ll have to convince the folks that started the boom to make me Governor.  It looks as if some of them were already thinking that they’d made a mistake.”

“Oh, that horrid Julius,” said Patty lightly.  “He doesn’t matter a bit, does he, Mrs. Page?”

“Not to me,” laughed Corinna, “but I’m not a politician.  Politicians have queer preferences.”

“Or queer needs,” suggested Vetch.  “You don’t like Gershom, I infer; but when you are ready to sweep, remember you mustn’t be over-squeamish about your broom.”

“I have heard,” rejoined Corinna, still laughing, “that a new broom sweeps clean.  Why not try a new one next time?”

“You mean when I run for the Presidency?” Was he joking, or was there an undercurrent of seriousness in his words?