eeds her. It is at that point that one of two things happens: the
weak woman abandons him, and follows her dream elsewhere. The woman
of character, her maternal instinct roused, marries him, bears him
children, is both wife and mother to him, and finds in their united
weaknesses such strength as she can.

In her youth and self-sufficiency Lily stood ready to give, rather than
to receive. She felt now that he needed her more than she needed him.
There was something unconsciously patronizing those days in her attitude
toward him, and if he recognized it he did not resent it. Women had
always been "easy" for him. Her very aloofness, her faint condescension,
her air of a young grande dame, were a part of her attraction for him.

Love sees clearly, and seeing, loves on. But infatuation is blind; when
it gains sight, it dies. Already Lily was seeing him with the critical
eyes of youth, his loud voice, his over-fastidious dress, his occasional
grossnesses. To offset these she placed vast importance on his promise
to leave his old associates when she married him.

The time was very close now. She could not hold him off much longer,
and she began to feel, too, that she must soon leave the house on Cardew
Way. Doyle's attitude to her was increasingly suspicious and ungracious.
She knew that he had no knowledge of Louis's promise, but he began to
feel that she was working against him, and showed it.

And in Louis Akers too she began to discern an inclination not to pull
out until after the election. He was ambitious, and again and again he
urged that he would be more useful for the purpose in her mind if he
were elected first.

That issue came to a climax the day she had seen her mother and learned
the terms on which she might return home. She was alarmed by his noisy
anger at the situation.

"Do sit down, Louis, and be quiet," she said. "You have known their
attitude all along, haven't you?"

"I'll show them," he said, thickly. "Damned snobs!" He glanced at her
then uneasily, and her expression put him on his guard. "I didn't mean
that, little girl. Honestly I didn't. I don't care for myself. It's
you."

"You must understand that they think they are acting for my good. And
I am not sure," she added, her clear eyes on him, "that they are not
right. You frighten me sometimes, Louis."

But a little later he broke out again. If he wasn't good enough to enter
their house, he'd show them something. The election would show the