lessly happy in the fact, was for all to see. That
had been one of her most interesting divagations to the novelist, Gora
Dwight--but a phase. Gora was not deluded.

And this man Hohenhauer had brought her to her senses; no doubt of that
either to a mind both warmly imaginative and coldly analytical. And
what had he come up here for except to ask her to marry him--to share
his power? She dismissed the Washington inference with the contempt it
deserved. Mr. Dinwiddie was a very experienced and astute old
gentleman, but he always settled on the obvious like a hen on a
porcelain egg. . . . What a manifest destiny! What an ideal
match. . . . She sighed, almost envying her. But it would be almost
as interesting to write about as to experience. After all, a novelist
had things all her own way, and that was more than even the Zattianys
could hope for.

Then she remembered poor Clavering and looked up at him with eyes that
were wholly sympathetic.

"I don't think there's a doubt," she said, "that Prince Hohenhauer came
up here to ask her to marry him. You can see for yourself what such a
match would mean for him, for aside from that indisputable genius of
hers--trained in later years by himself--she has great wealth and few
scruples; and where he failed to win men to his purpose, she, with her
superlative charm, and every feminine intuition sharpened by an
uncommon experience of men and public life, would succeed. She may
hate him, as Mr. Dinwiddie says--for the moment. But even if she
continued to hate him that would not prevent her from marrying him if
she believed he could help her to power. If it had not been for you I
don't believe she would have hesitated a moment."

"Do you mean to say you believe she'll throw me over?" demanded
Clavering fiercely.

"I think you're in danger, and if I were you I'd throw Mr. Dinwiddie's
advice to the winds and take the morning train for New York."

"Don't you believe that she loves me?"

"Oh, yes. As love goes."

"What d'you mean by that?"

"I mean that Madame Zattiany has long since reached the age when power
means more than love--in a woman of that calibre. But you, in turn,
have tremendous power over her. Sweep her off her feet again and make
her marry you."

"You don't believe she's gone to Washington?"

"I do not. If that was all he wanted of her, why didn't he telephone?
I am sure he could be ambiguous enough to defeat the curiosity of any
listeners-