Indeed, when a woman he bumps into while walking precincts here happens to mention he was once half an hour late to a house party, Romney stops dead in the middle of the street and turns disbelievingly to an aide: “I was late? I’m never late. . . . When was I a half-hour late?” It is finally determined that he was not late, the world makes sense again, and he trots happily down the block, where a “Mitt Romney for President” yard sign the size of a billboard greets him.