tate
prison hanging over him?"

"Yes."

"If Governor Harwood is not renominated I shall expect you to defer
our marriage until you can work out of your difficulties. There will be
danger and it is not in the bargain of my sacrifice that I shall pass
through such disgrace with you; at any rate, I do not consider that
added suffering is in the trade and will not agree to it. I prefer to
remain as I am and share the disgrace of my mother. Do you agree to
that?"

"I don't like it, but I suppose I've got to be decent in the matter."

"But if Governor Harwood is renominated at the convention I will concede
a point on my part and will marry you at once, taking it for granted
that you will be able to clear yourself. In that way both of us are
making concessions--and such things should be considered in a bargain."
She was coldly polite.

He bowed, not knowing exactly what reply to make to her.

"You have accused me of trifling in the past," she continued. "I will
now try to show you that I can conduct straight business as it should be
handled. Shall I make a memo of our agreement and hand it to you?"

"There is no need of it," he stammered.

"Thank you, Mr. Dodd. And now that the matter has been settled to our
mutual satisfaction, I will ask you to go. I think my mother needs my
attention. And I am reminded that our bargain does not dispose of the
fact that my mother owes you five thousand dollars. I will reflect
on how that debt may be paid--by insurance"--her face grew whiter
still--"or by some arrangement."

"I wish you wouldn't say such--" But she interrupted him.

"On my part, this is strictly business, Mr. Dodd, and I must consider
all sides. I will give the money matter careful thought. I'm sure we can
arrange it. I have merely bought my mother's good name with _myself_!"

He stumbled out of the room and went on his way.

"Mother, you and I have some long, long thoughts to busy ourselves with
before we attempt to talk to each other," said the girl when the two
were alone. "I am going to my room. Please do not disturb me until
to-morrow."

For an hour Kate Kilgour was a girl once more, sobbing her heart out
against her pillow, stretched upon her bed in abandon of woe, torn by
the bitter knowledge that she was alone in her pitiful fight. She was
more frank with herself in her sorrow than she ever had been before.
She owned to her heart that a few days before even a mother's desperate
plight would hardly hav