which Berenice had indicated, with a
little sigh of relief.

"These all-night sittings," he remarked, "get less of a joke as one
advances in years. You read the reports this morning?"

She nodded.

"And Mannering's speech?"

"Every word of it."

"Our little conspiracy," he continued, "is bearing fruit. Honestly,
Mannering is a surprise, even to me. After these years of rust I scarcely
expected him to step back at once into all his former brilliancy. His
speech last night was wonderful."

"I heard it," she said. "You are quite right. It was wonderful."

"You were in the House?" he asked, looking up quickly.

"I was there till midnight," she answered.

Borrowdean was thoughtful for a moment.

"His speech," he remarked, "sounded even better than it read."

"I thought so," she admitted. "He has all the smaller tricks of the
orator, as well as the gift of eloquence. One can always listen to him
with pleasure."

"Will you pardon me," Borrowdean asked, "if I make a remark which may
sound a little impertinent? You and Mannering were great friends at
Blakely. On my first visit there you will remember that you did not
attempt to conceal that there was more than an ordinary intimacy between
you. Yet to-day I notice that there are indications on both your parts of
a desire to avoid one another as much as possible. It seems to me a pity
that you two should not be friends. Is there any small misunderstanding
which a common friend--such as I trust I may call myself--might help
to smooth away?"

Berenice regarded him thoughtfully.

"It is strange," she said, "that you should talk to me like this, you who
are certainly responsible for any estrangement there may be between Mr.
Mannering and myself. Please answer me this question. Why do you wish us
to be friends?"

Borrowdean shrugged his shoulders.

"You and he and myself, with about a dozen others," he answered, "form
the backbone of a political party. As time goes on we shall in all
probability be drawn closer and closer together. It seems to me best that
our alliance should be as real a thing as possible."

Berenice smiled.

"Rather a sentimental attitude for you, Sir Leslie," she remarked. "Have
you ever considered the fact that any coolness there may be between
Lawrence Mannering and myself is entirely due to you?"

"To me!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly! At Blakely we were on terms of the most intimate friendship. I
had grown to like and respect him more than