Waiting was not as difficult for him as it was for most people, and he fully expected to reap the rewards of his patience in the end. He passed the time reading up on the Philadelphia area and expanding his knowledge of the job he was supposed to have, so that he could discuss it intelligently. The phone rang at a little after nine in the morning in the Fair hotel suite and was answered by the Senator’s press aide. Damico listened, said, “Hang on,” and handed the receiver to Meg. “Who is it?” she asked him, putting down the speech she was proofreading and reaching to take the phone, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. Damico shrugged. “Thanks, Roger,” she said dryly. The man treated reporters as though they were an invading army and played Torquemada with delivery boys, but he was too busy to ask who was calling her. “Hello?” she said. “Margaret, this is Peter Ransom.” The name drew a blank. She was silent long enough to convince Ransom that he should clarify, and he added, “Walter Raleigh.”
