the trinket or what it stood for, would
you be here now?"

"I don't know," replied Paul. "I might have taken a more honest road to
get here."

"We took you to ourselves as a bright human being, Paul--not for what
you might or might not have been. By the way, what have you decided as
regards making public the fact of your relationship?"

"My father, for his own reasons, has urged me not to do so."

Miss Winwood drew a long breath.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said.

So Paul, comforted by one woman's amazing loyalty, went out that
evening and addressed his great meeting. But the roar of applause that
welcomed him echoed through void spaces of his being. He felt neither
thrill nor fear. The speech prepared by the Fortunate Youth was
delivered by a stranger to it, glowing and dancing eloquence. The words
came trippingly enough, but the informing Spirit was gone.

Those in the audience familiar with the magic of his smile were
disappointed. The soundness of his policy satisfied the hard-headed,
but he made no appeal to the imaginative. If his speech did not fall
flat, it was not the clarion voice that his supporters had anticipated.
They whispered together with depressed headshakings. Their man was not
in form. He was nervous. What he said was right enough, but his
utterance lacked fire. It carried conviction to those already
convinced; but it could make no proselytes. Had they been mistaken in
their choice? Too young a man, hadn't lie bitten off a hunk greater
than he could chew? So the inner ring of local politicians. An election
audience, however, brings its own enthusiasms, and it must be a very
dull dog indeed who damps their ardour. They cheered prodigiously when
Paul sat down, and a crowd of zealots waiting outside the building
cheered him again as he drove off. But Paul knew that he had been a
failure. He had delivered another man's speech. To-morrow and the day
after and the day after that, and ever afterwards, if he held to the
political game, he would have to speak in his own new person. What kind
of a person would the new Paul be?

He drove back almost in silence with the Colonel and Miss Winwood,
vainly seeking to solve the problem. The foundations of his life had
been swept away. His foot rested on nothing solid save his own manhood.
That no shock should break down. He would fight. He would win the
election. He set his lips in grim determination. If life held no higher
meaning, it at least offered this