At 11 o'clock one night last week a long, dark green train standing in the Northern Pacific yards in Seattle quivered with the first tug of the engine, jolted a little as it gained speed, whistled as it raced toward the East. The Willkie Special was headed for home; the campaign tour that had led through the Southwest, up the Pacific Coast, was half over. The correspondents in the press lounge and the dining car, their stories already filed, argued over their Scotch & sodas—about the Third Term, the merits of Roosevelt...

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