His business history was
chequered and his exact financial equivalent uncertain,
but he had tremendously the air of a man of affairs; as
the phrase went, he was full of politics, the plain
repository of deep things. He had a shrewd eye, a double
chin, and a bluff, crisp, jovial manner of talking as he
lay back in an armchair with his legs crossed and played
with his watch chain, an important way of nodding assent,
a weighty shake of denial. Voting on purely party lines,
the town had later rewarded his invincible expectation
by electing him Mayor, and then provided itself with
unlimited entertainment by putting in a Liberal majority
on his council, the reports of the weekly sittings being
constantly considered as good as a cake walk. South Fox,
as people said, was not a healthy locality for
Conservatives. Yet Walter Winter wore a look of remarkable
hardiness. He had also tremendously the air of a dark
horse, the result both of natural selection and careful
cultivation. Even his political enemies took it kindly
when he "got in" for Mayor, and offered him amused
congratulations. He made a personal claim on their
cordiality, which was not the least of his political
resources. Nature had fitted him to public uses; the
impression overflowed the ranks of his own supporters
and softened asperity among his opponents.
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