Newland sat at the desk in his library, and looked round at the room where most of the real things of his life had happened over the last thirty years. There his wife, nearly twenty-six years ago, had blushingly told him she was expecting a baby. There his elder son Dallas had taken his first steps towards him, shouting, "Dad!" There his daughter Mary, who was so like her mother, had announced her engagement to the dullest of Reggie Chivers' sons. And there his great friend Theodore Roosevelt had told him, "Forget about the professional politicians, Archer! It's men like you the country wants."

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