he floor of the dining room in a frenzy of rage, a newspaper
clenched in his hand. By the window stood Elinor, very pale and with
slightly reddened eyes. They had not heard her, and Doyle continued a
furious harangue.

"The fools!" he said. "Damn such material as I have to work with! This
isn't the time, and they know it. I've warned them over and over. The
fools!"

Elinor saw her then, and made a gesture of warning. But it was too late.
Lily had a certain quality of directness, and it did not occur to her to
dissemble.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked, and went at once to Elinor. She had once
or twice before this stood between them for Elinor's protection.

"Everything is as happy as a May morning," Doyle sneered. "Your Aunt
Elinor has an unpleasant habit of weeping for joy."

Lily stiffened, but Elinor touched her arm.

"Sit down and eat your breakfast, Lily," she said, and left the room.

Doyle stood staring at Lily angrily. He did not know how much she
had heard, how much she knew. At the moment he did not care. He had
a reckless impulse to tell her the truth, but his habitual caution
prevailed. He forced a cold smile.

"Don't bother your pretty head about politics," he said.

Lily was equally cold. Her dislike of him had been growing for weeks,
coupled to a new and strange distrust.

"Politics? You seem to take your politics very hard."

"I do," he said urbanely. "Particularly when I am fighting my wife's
family. May I pour you some coffee?"

And pour it he did, eyeing her furtively the while, and brought it to
her.

"May I give you a word of advice, Lily?" he said. "Don't treat your
husband to tears at breakfast--unless you want to see him romping off to
some other woman."

"If he cared to do that I shouldn't want him anyhow."

"You're a self-sufficient child, aren't you? Well, the best of us do it,
sometimes."

He had successfully changed the trend of her thoughts, and he went out,
carrying the newspaper with him.

Nevertheless, he began to feel that her presence in the house was a
menace. With all her theories he knew that a word of the truth would
send her flying, breathless with outrage, out of his door. He could
quite plainly visualize that home-coming of hers. The instant steps that
would be taken against him, old Anthony on the wire appealing to the
governor, Howard closeted with the Chief of Police, an instant closing
of the net. And he was not ready for the clash.

No. She must stay