"
"It doesn't seem like mine," the girl remarked. Aleta rose. "This is
election night," she said; "let's go down and watch the returns."
They did this, standing on the fringe of a crowd that thronged about the
newspaper offices, watching, eager, but patient, the figures which were
flashed on a screen.
The crowd was less demonstrative than is usual on such occasions. A
feeling of anxiety prevailed, a consciousness of vital issues endangered
and put to the test. Toward midnight the crowd grew thicker. But it was
more joyous now. Taylor and Langdon were leading. It became evident that
they must win.
Suddenly the restless stillness of the throng was broken by spontaneous
cheering. It was impressive, overwhelming, like a great burst of
relieved emotion.
Norah France caught Frank's arm as the celebrants eddied round them. The
press was disbanding with an almost violent haste. "Where's Aleta?"
asked the girl.
Frank searched amid the human eddies, but in vain. "She got separated
from us somehow," he said rather helplessly. They searched farther,
without result. Aleta doubtless had gone home.
"I wonder if you'd take me somewhere ... for a cup of coffee," said Miss
France.
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