Such a girl as Shirley Rossmore could not have had any other kind of a father.
Ah, if he had had such a daughter he might have been a better man, if only to win his child's respect and affection.

John Ryder pondered long and deeply and the more he ruminated the stronger the conviction grew upon him that the girl was right and he was wrong.

Suddenly, he looked at his watch.

It was one o'clock.
Roberts had told him that it would be an all night session and that a vote would probably not be taken until very late.

He unhooked the telephone and calling "central" asked for "long distance" and connection with Washington.
It was seven o'clock when the maid entered Shirley's room with her breakfast and she found its occupant up and dressed.
"Why you haven't been to bed, Miss!" exclaimed the girl, looking at the bed in the inner room which seemed scarcely disturbed.
"No, Theresa I--I couldn't sleep." Hastily pouring out a cup of tea she added.