----" She
hesitated at the trite words, her voice faltering as she looked up into
his sad face; it had grown thin and tired these last days. She longed to
go to him, to tell him that he should find rest at last. "No," she went
on, finally, "I am not sorry that you found the clipping," she altered
her words; "why should I not be honest with myself--and you?"

She spoke so simply, so easily, that Danvers almost believed that she
did not care.

"You saved my life once, dear friend," she said, "and that makes me
dare to ask you to be generous now. Do not judge me! Wait a little.
Forget this evening, and let us go back to the old days. Will you?"

She smiled into his face, so sad a little smile in its evident effort at
bravery, that he responded to her mood, eager to help her keep the
mastery over her heart, that she might fight her battle in her own proud
way. Almost, he was reconciled to her woman's judgment; and he sat down
and talked of Fort Benton days.

For that hour Winifred was grateful to Danvers all her life; and when he
rose to say good-night she was quite herself again.

"You will understand if I tell you that I must go now?" inquired
Danvers. "Judge Latimer was to come in on Number Four, and I must see
him to-night."

Winifred met his look with comprehension, and gave him her hand.

A faint sound reached them from the Latimer's apartment across the way
as Danvers opened the door. He listened, then ran across the hall.

"What's that?" cried Winifred, startled.

[Illustration]

Chapter XIII

The Lobbyist

Fate, woman-like, cares not what means she employs to hurt. She takes
what comes first to hand. Sometimes the more unlikely the weapon, the
more effective is its use.

The same afternoon that Danvers tried to overtake Miss Blair, two
talkative drummers boarded the west-bound train at a small Montana
station, doubling back to Helena. As they entered the smoking
compartment of a sleeper they found it empty save for a slight,
weary-looking man who was gazing abstractedly at the wintry plains.

"Here, don't sit that side," said one; "the sun glares on the snow too
much."

As the drummer spoke to his friend he gave a passing glance at the
preoccupied stranger, and chanced to take the seat directly in front of
him. The other followed his advice, facing him.

"What's doing in Helena? I've been gone a week, but I see by the paper
you haven't elected a senator yet."

"Naw," returned his comp