ou_ like it?"

"Don't ask me," I said with a bitterness that made us both silent
thereafter.

That evening I got Fred to land me at the nearest town. The train she
must have been on had just gone. In the morning I took the express for
the East. Arrived at Washington, I drove straight to her school.

A high iron fence, not obstructing the view from the country road; a
long drive under arching maples and beeches; a rambling, fascinating old
house upon the crest of a hill; many windows, a pillared porch, a low,
very wide doorway. It seemed like her in its dark, cool, odorous beauty.

She herself was in the front hall, directing some workmen. "Why, Senator
Sayler, this _is_ a surprise," she said, advancing to greet me. But
there was no suggestion of surprise in her tone or her look, only a
friendly welcome to an acquaintance.

She led the way into the drawing-room to the left. The furniture and
pictures were in ghostly draperies; everything was in confusion. We went
on to a side veranda, seated ourselves. She looked inquiringly at me.

"I do not know why," was my answer. "I only know--I had to come."

She studied me calmly. I remember her look, everything about her--the
embroidery on the sleeves and bosom of her blouse, the buckles on her
white shoes. I remember also that there was a breeze, and how good it
felt to my hot face, to my eyes burning from lack of sleep. At last she
said: "Well--what do you think of my little kingdom?"

"It is yours--entirely?"

"House, gardens--everything. I paid the last of my debts in June."

"I'm contrasting it with my own," I said.

"But that isn't fair," she protested with a smile. "You must remember,
I'm only a woman."

"With my own," I went on, as if she had not interrupted. "Yours
is--yours, honestly got. It makes you proud, happy. Mine--" I did not
finish.

She must have seen or felt how profoundly I was moved, for I presently
saw her looking at me with an expression I might have resented for its
pity from any other than her. "Why do you tell _me_ this?" she asked.

"There is always for every one," was my answer, "some person to whom he
shows himself as he is. You are that person for me because--I'm
surrounded by people who care for me for what I can give. Even my
children care to a great extent for that reason. It's the penalty for
having the power to give the material things all human beings crave.
Only two persons ever cared--cared much for me just because I was
mys