e loved
out of a world of beautiful women was coming to him, light-footed as
Daphne, the rhythm of the morning in her step.

She spoke, commonplace words enough. "Last night I heard you were here."

"And I didn't know you were within a thousand miles."

"We came back to Verden Thursday and are up over Sunday," she explained.

He was lost in the witchery of the spell she cast over him. Not the
drooping maidenhair ferns through which she trailed were more
delicate or graceful than she. But some instinct in him played surface
commonplaces against the insurgent emotion of his heart.

"You like Washington?"

"I like home better."

"But you were popular at the capital. I read a great deal in the papers
about your triumphs."

The dye in her cheeks ran a little stronger. There had been much gossip
about a certain Italian nobleman who had wooed her openly and madly.
"They told a lot of nonsense."

"And some that wasn't nonsense."

"Not much." She changed the subject lightly. "You read all about the
wedding, of course."

He quoted. "Miss Alice Frome as maid of honor preceded the bride,
appearing in a handsome gown of very delicate old rose satin with an
overdress of--"

"Very good. You may go to the head of the class, sir. Valencia was
beautiful and your cousin never looked more handsome."

"Which is saying a good deal."

"And we're all hoping they will live happy ever after."

"You know he is being talked of for United States Senator already."

"You will oppose him?" she asked quickly.

"I shall have to."

"Still an irreconcilable." Her smile could be vivid, and just now it
was.

"Still a demagogue and a trouble maker," he admitted.

"You've won the recall and the direct primary since I left."

"Yes. We've been busy."

"And our friends--how are they?"

"You should see Jefferson Davis Farnum Miller. He's two months old and
as fat as a dumpling."

"I've seen him. He's a credit to his godfather."

"Isn't he? That's one happy family."

"I wonder who's to blame for that," she said, the star flash in her
eyes.

"Nellie told you?"

"She told me."

"They exaggerate. Nobody could have done less than I."

"Or more." She did not dwell upon the subject. "Tell me about Mr.
Marchant."

He went over for her the story of the little poet's gentle death. She
listened till he made an end.

"Then it was not hard for him?"

"No. He had one of his good, eager days, then guietly fell asleep."

"And passe