ad a sense of surprised pleasure before she gave herself up
to the joy of it.

"I'd never have thought it of you, Paul," she said, as they took their
seats. He laughed and lifted his glass.

"To the partnership!"

They drank to it gravely. Later when Paul unlocked her door for her,
and turned to go on to his, she said: "Come in and talk over the party."

"Aren't you tired?"

"No. I feel as if I'd never sleep. I wish I were going on this minute,
to play a new part before a Boston audience, on a rainy first night."

"That would call forth all your powers," he laughed, and followed her
in. As she pulled the cord of the last lamp, she felt his eyes on her.

"Well, what do you think of me?" she challenged him.

"I think you are an inspired artist and a beautiful woman," he evaded.

She laughed at that.

"That must be an old joke," he objected.

"The whole thing is exquisitely funny: a strange man in my rooms at two
in the morning compliments me on my art.... What do you want of life?"
she added disconcertingly.

His tongue shaped itself in an evasive reply, but the frank, boyish
interest in her face changed his mind.

"I want several things: One of them is to be governor of New York."

"Good! I like people to know what they want and go after it."

"It isn't so easy, you know."

"All the better."

"Do you know anything about politics?"

"Lord, man, I'm Irish."

She led him on to talk of the situation in the political game, to line
up for her his allies and enemies; to outline his campaign policy. His
candidacy was to be announced in a few days. She leapt at the points in
advance of him, questioned this and that--he talked to her as to a
lieutenant. The clock chimed and caught his attention.

"Good heavens! why didn't you send me home?"

"What's the use of sleeping when there's something to talk about--when
there's a fight to plan for."

"But my work must not interfere with your work." He came to shake hands
with her. "It looks as if this partnership might prove a success."

"I'm no prophet!" she defied him.

Just before he closed the door he spoke:

"But the election would not be until next fall----"

"We could extend our contract," she retorted, and the door closed on his
laugh.

PART II

It seems sometimes as if a Harlequin rules the world. When once your
tired eyes rest on what you know to be the last trick in his bag--lo! he
turns the empty sack upside down, and it spills surpri