a politician, not a boss. Blackford Singleton had belonged to the
coterie that included such men as Hoar and Evarts, Thurman and Bayard;
neither her imagination nor her affection could bridge the chasm that
separated men of their type from her husband, who, in middle life, was
content with a seat in the state legislature and busied himself with
wars upon petty rivals. Such reflections as these did not contribute to
her peace of mind.

She was alone in her room at Mrs. Owen's when Bassett appeared, late in
the afternoon. Mrs. Owen was downtown on business matters; Marian, after
exhausting all her devices for making her mother comfortable, had flown
in search of acquaintances; and Sylvia had that day taken up her work in
the normal school. Left to herself for the greater part of the warm
afternoon, Mrs. Bassett had indulged luxuriously in forebodings. She had
not expected her husband, and his unannounced entrance startled her.

"Well," she remarked drearily, "so you have come back to face it, have
you?"

"I'm undoubtedly back, Hallie," he answered, with an effort at
lightness, crossing to the bedside and taking her hand.

He had rarely discussed his political plans with her, but he realized
that the rupture with Thatcher must naturally have distressed her; and
there was also Thatcher's lawsuit involving her aunt, which had
disagreeable possibilities.

"I'm sorry your name got into the papers, Hallie. I didn't want you to
go to the convention, but of course I knew you went to please Marian.
Where is Marian?"

"Oh, she's off somewhere. I couldn't expect her to stay here in this hot
room all day."

The room was not uncomfortable; but it seemed wiser not to debate
questions of temperature. He found a chair and sat down beside her.

"You mustn't worry about the newspapers, Hallie; they always make the
worst of everything. The temptation to distort facts to make a good
story is strong; I have seen it in my connection with the 'Courier.'
It's lamentable, but you can't correct it in a day. I'm pretty well
hardened to it myself, but I'm sorry you have let these attacks on me
annoy you. The only thing to do is to ignore them. What's that you have
there?"

She still clasped the envelope of clippings and thrust it at him
accusingly. The calmness of his inspection irritated her and she broke
out sharply:--

"I shouldn't think a man with a wife and family would lay himself open
to such attacks in all the newspapers in th