face by labored exposition and
tedious statistic would be the height of clumsy unkindness. She had been
unhappy; he had made her happy; that was all that was vital just now. At
a later time, when she had stopped brooding over the thing and could see
and discuss it intelligently, he would take her quietly and straighten
the whole matter out for her.

For this present, there was a look in her eyes which made a trip-hammer
of his heart. Never had her face--less of the mere pretty young girl's
than he had ever seen it, somewhat worn beneath its color, a little
wistful under her smile--seemed to him so immeasurably sweet. In his
blood Straus and the famous Verzenay plied their dizzying vocations.
Suddenly he leaned forward, seeing nothing but two wonderful blue eyes,
and his hand fell upon hers, with a grip which claimed her out of all
the world.

"Sharlee" he said hoarsely. "Don't you know that--"

But he was, alas, summarily checked. At just that minute, outraged
partners of Miss Weyland's espied and descended upon them with loud
reproachful cries, and Charles Gardiner West's moment of superb
impetuosity had flowered in nothing.

* * * * *

At a little earlier hour on the same evening, in a dining-room a mile
away, eight men met "without political significance" to elect a new set
of officers for the city. A bit of red-tape legislation permitted the
people to ratify the choices at a "primary," to be held some months
later; but the election came now. Unanimously, and with little or no
discussion, the eight men elected one of their own number, Mr. Meachy T.
Bangor by name, to the office of Mayor of the City.

One of them then referred humorously to Mr. Bangor as just the sort of
progressive young reformer that suited _him_. Another suggested, more
seriously, that they might have to allow for the genuine article some
day. Plonny Neal, who sat at the head of the table, as being the wisest
of them, said that the organization certainly must expect to knuckle to
reform some day; perhaps in eight years, perhaps in twelve years,
perhaps in sixteen.

"Got your young feller all picked out, Plonny?" queried the Mayor elect,
Mr. Bangor, with a wink around the room.

Plonny denied that he had any candidate. Under pressure, however, he
admitted having his eye on a certain youth, a "dark horse" who was
little known at present, but who, in his humble judgment, was a coming
man. Plonny said that this