utterfly Man said in a low voice: "Look
yonder!" And turning, I saw Hunter. He was for the moment alone, and
stood with his head bent slightly forward, his bright cold glance
intent upon the two persons approaching--Mary Virginia and George
Inglesby. His white teeth showed in a smile. I remembered,
disagreeably, Flint's "I don't like the expression of his teeth: he
looks like he'd bite."

Until that afternoon I had not seen the secretary for some time, for
he had been kept unusually busy. Those eminently sensible talks to the
mill workers had been well received, and were to be followed by others
along the same line. He had done even more: he had induced the owners
to recognize the men's Union, and all future complaints and demands
were to be submitted to arbitration. Inglesby had undoubtedly gained
ground enormously by that move. Hunter had done well. And
yet--catching that sharp-toothed smile, I felt my faith in him for the
first time shaken by one of those unaccountable uprushes of intuition
which perplex and disturb.

I knew, too, that Laurence had had several long and serious
conferences with Eustis, and I could well imagine the arguments he had
brought to bear, the rousing of a sense of duty, and of state pride.

Eustis was obstinate. He had many interests. He was a very, very busy
man. He didn't want to be a Senator; he wanted to be let alone to
attend to his own business in his own way. But, insisted Laurence,
when a thing must be done, and you can do it in a manner which
benefits all and injures none; when your own people ask you to do it
for them, isn't _that_ your business?

A cold damning resume of Inglesby's entire career made Eustis
hesitate. A vivid picture of what the state might expect at Inglesby's
hands roused him to just anger. Such as this fellow represent
Carolina? Never! When Inglesby's name should be put up, Eustis
unwillingly agreed to oppose him.

And here was Inglesby, in my garden, making himself agreeable to
Eustis's daughter! He was so plainly desirous to please her, that it
troubled me, although it made his secretary smile.

The Mary Virginia walking beside Inglesby was not the Mary Virginia
_we_ knew: this was the regal one, the great beauty. Her whole manner
was subtly charged with a sort of arrogant hauteur; her fairness
itself changed, tinged with pride as with an inward fire, until she
glowed with a cold, jewel-like brightness, hard and clear. Her very
skirts rustled pridefully