"Chickens come home to roost--" Why did that ancient phrase keep ringing in his ears when he tried to sleep?
Beaten by his illegitimate son at the polls, the victim of his own wrong-doing--the sacrifice of penalty! He knew that his son, inheriting his own political gifts, had done what could have been done by no one else.

All the years passed since Carnac was begotten laid their deathly hands upon him, and he knew he could never recover from this defeat.

How much better it would have been if he had been struck twenty-seven years ago! Youth, ambition and resolve would have saved him from the worst then.
Age has its powers, but it has its defects, and he had no hope that his own defects would be wiped out by luck at the polls.

Spirit was gone out of him, longing for the future had no place in his mind; in the world of public work he was dead and buried.

How little he had got from all his life! How few friends he had, and how few he was entitled to have! This is one of the punishments that selfishness and wrong-doing brings; it gives no insurance for the hours of defeat and loss.