sessed him, so that he tried to argue Mirabelle away from the
_Herald_. His most cogent argument was that the announcement might
weaken their position in the League--the League might be too much
interested in watching the romance to pay strict attention to reform.

"Humph!" said Mirabelle. "_I_'m not ashamed of being congratulated.
Are you? But if you're so finicky about it, I'll do the telephoning
myself."

Whereupon Mr. Mix went back to his room, and drank two highballs, and
communed with himself until long past midnight.

In the morning, with emotions which puzzled him, he turned to the
society column of the _Herald_; and when he saw the flattering
paragraph in type,--with the veiled hint that he might be the next
candidate for Mayor, on a reform ticket--he sat very still for a
moment or two, while his hand shook slightly. No backward step, now!
His head was in the noose. He wondered, with a fresh burst of
self-effacement, what people would say about it. One thing--they
wouldn't accuse him of the truth. Nobody but Mr. Mix himself knew the
whole truth--unless perhaps it were Henry Devereux. Henry had
developed a knowing eye. But Henry didn't count--Henry was beaten
already. Still, if Henry should actually come out and accuse Mr. Mix
of--why, what _could_ Henry accuse him of? Simply marrying for money?
If it didn't make any difference to Mirabelle, it certainly didn't to
Mr. Mix. And what booted the rest of the world? Why should he concern
himself with all the petty spite and gossip of a town which wasn't
even progressive enough to have an art museum or a flying field, to
say nothing of a good fight-club? Let 'em gossip.... But just the
same, he wished that Mirabelle had been willing to keep the engagement
a secret. Mr. Mix was sure to encounter Henry, once in a while, at the
Citizens Club, and he didn't like to visualize Henry's smile.

He was in the act of tossing away the paper when his attention was
snatched back by a half-page advertisement; in which the name of the
Orpheum Theatre stood out like a red flag. Mr. Mix glanced at it,
superciliously, but a moment later, his whole soul was strung on it.

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