could have ventured," he said.

"But I asked you," she objected. "Now tell me, why did you refuse to be
their candidate? It wasn't because you were not likely to get elected,
was it?"

He permitted himself a glance which was a tribute of admiration--a
glance which she returned steadfastly.

"It isn't likely that I should have been elected," he answered, "but you
are right--that is not the reason I refused."

"I thought not," she said, "I did not believe you were the kind of man
to refuse for that reason. And you would have been elected."

"What makes you think so?" he asked curiously.

"I have been thinking since I saw you last--yes, and I have been making
inquiries. I have been trying to find out things--which you will not
tell me." She paused, with a little catch of her breath, and went on
again. "Do you believe I came all the way up here just to hear Humphrey
Crewe make a speech and to drive with him in a high sleigh and listen
to him talk about his career? When serious men of the people like Mr.
Redbrook and that nice Mr. Jenney at Leith and a lot of others who do
not ordinarily care for politics are thinking and indignant, I have
come to the conclusion there must be a cause for it. They say that the
railroad governs them through disreputable politicians,--and I--I am
beginning to believe it is true. I have had some of the politicians
pointed out to me in the Legislature, and they look like it."

Austen did not smile. She was speaking quietly, but he saw that she was
breathing deeply, and he knew that she possessed a courage which went
far beyond that of most women, and an insight into life and affairs.

"I am going to find out," she said, "whether these things are true."

"And then?" he asked involuntarily.

"If they are true, I am going to tell my father about them, and ask him
to investigate. Nobody seems to have the courage to go to him."

Austen did not answer. He felt the implication; he knew that, without
realizing his difficulties, and carried on by a feeling long pent up,
she had measured him unjustly, and yet he felt no resentment, and no
shock. Perhaps he might feel that later. Now he was filled only with a
sympathy that was yet another common bond between them. Suppose she did
find out? He knew that she would not falter until she came to the end
of her investigation, to the revelation of Mr. Flint's code of business
ethics. Should the revolt take place, she would be satisfied with
nothing le