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things and his own soul to the party bosses who sell out the interests of the city, state, and nation to the business leaders, who—as we know now—use the money we entrust to them to rob us and corrupt our political, commercial and our higher life. When Mark Fagan had taken his oath, the other, older freeholders came to him, and they invited him into “the combine.” There was no mystery about it. There was a com- bine and there was graft; of course a man wants his share of the graft, and though Fagan was a Republican, party made no difference; both parties were in on it, and Fagan had a right to what was coming to him. Something — the man doesn’t know exactly what it was — something which he thinks is religious, made him decline to go in. He is a quiet man, and he made no outcry. He didn’t perfectly understand anyhow, then, just what it all meant. It simply “didn’t look right” to Mark, so he did not sell out the people of his ward who trusted him to serve them. And the worst of it was, he couldn’t serve them. If he wouldn’t “stand in,” the combine wouldn’t let him have anything for his ward, not even the needed, rightful improvements. All he got were three political jobs, and they were a gift to him. The combine having distributed all the offices, had three left