might trade for his, Senator Hanway's, services.

"If you please, we'll have no such argument going about," observed
Senator Hanway.

This want of a business headquarters, while it may have been an
inconvenience to Mr. Harley, now arose to dovetail with the desires of
Storri. It gave him a pretext for calling at the Harley house; with Mr.
Harley as excuse, and making a pretense of having business with him, he
could break in at all manner of queer hours.

Storri made a study of the Harley household. About four of the afternoon
it was Mrs. Hanway-Harley's habit to retire and refresh herself with a
nap, against the demands of dinner and what social gayeties might
follow. Mr. Harley, himself, was apt to be hovering about the Senate
corridors. Or he would be holding pow-wow with men of importance, that
is to say, money, at one of the hotels. Dorothy, who was not interested
in dark-lantern legislation, and required no restoring naps, would be
alone. Wherefore, it became the practice of Storri to appear of an
afternoon at the Harley house, and ask for Mr. Harley. Not finding that
business man, Storri, who did not insist that his errand was desperate,
would idle an hour with Dorothy.

Storri thought himself one to fascinate a woman, and had a fine
confidence in his powers to charm. He had studied conquest as an art.
When he beleagured a girl's heart, his first approaches were modeled on
the free and jovial. During these afternoon calls he talked much,
laughed loudly, and by his manner would have it that Dorothy and he were
on cheeriest terms. Storri made no headway; Dorothy met his laughter
with a cool reserve that baffled while it left him furious.

Storri essayed the sentimental, and came worn with homesickness. He was
near to tears as he related the imaginary sickness of a mother whom he
had invented for the purpose. Dorothy's cool reserve continued. She
sympathized, conversationally, and hoped that Storri would hurry to his
expiring parent's side.

Storri, like Richard, craved a rose and got it; but he fastened it upon
his lapel himself.

On Storri's fourth call Bess Marklin came in. Being there, Bess took
Storri to herself. She betrayed a surprising interest in statistics--the
populations of cities, crops, politics, and every other form of European
what-not--and kept Storri answering questions like a school-boy.
Thereafter, Storri was no sooner in the Harley house when, presto! from
over the way our pythoness swee