any objection. He gave the reporters no inkling of what Mon-
day’s answer was to be, but said that it would be issued from
New York. At his suggestion I had asked William R. Thayer
(Cavour) to dinner, and also at his later request, William Allen
White of Kansas, editor, politician and author of "A Certain
Rich Man" who was staying at the Colonial Club in Cambridge. He
had asked me not to invite more than three guests, and I included
Arthur D. Hill with whom I knew he was on friendly terms; though
I had no idea that Hill was coming out for him. My wife and sons
Alexander and Gordon made up the company, which did not break up
until half-past eleven, and the conversation,- and absorbing mono-
logue punctuated by questions and suggestions – was mainly on the
burning topic. I had approached (or rather dwelt on) the point of
loyalty to Taft already, but just as he was going up to bed I spoke
of it again. He turned and standing on the bottom stair re-
iterated "What do I owe to Taft? It was through me and my friends
that he became President. I had him in the hollow of my hand and
I had merely to turn my hand and he would have dropped out." He
had his pocket knife in his palm and suited his action to the word.
I saw him up stairs, and, as he stood at the thresh-hold of his
room, he stretched out his arms and exclaimed "I feel fine as
silk." It was just midnight and what with the strenuosity of the
day I was feeling just a trifle jaded.

Before I give you in detail his reasons and comments, let me
say that I never saw him in better physical shape. He is fairly
stout, but his color is good, and he appeared vigorous. I saw
no signs of unusual excitement. He halts in his sentences occa-