d only go
to show that they see the light in respect to their own business--it
wouldn't cover all the whole scope of the amendment, but even so--"

"Theodore, you know politics and I don't. But both of us know the
proverb about what you catch flies with. So we'll try both methods
together. You can put out the molasses, and I'll put out the vinegar;
and between us, we ought to get somewhere."

"We can't fail," said Mr. Mix, sitting on needles.

Mirabelle went over to her desk, and searched the pigeon-holes. "I've
been told, Theodore, by--people I consider very reliable--that in
August, dear John's money will be coming to me." This was the first
time that she had ever broached the delicate subject. "I always meant
to use some of it for the League." She had unearthed her check book,
and was writing words and figures as angular as herself. "So
really,--this is on account." She came over to hand him the check, and
after a slight hesitation, she stooped and pecked him on the forehead,
but immediately afterwards she relapsed into her consistently,
non-romantic character. "You better give me an itemized account of how
you spend it, though, Theodore. You better give me one every day.
We've got to be businesslike, even if we _are_--engaged."

CHAPTER XIII

For two-thirds of a year, Henry Devereux had lived contrary to his
independent taste, and to his education. He had virtually cut himself
adrift from the people he liked and the pleasures he loved; his sole
luxury had been his membership in the Citizens Club; and he had
laboured far more diligently and with far less respite than his uncle
had ever intended. He had overcome great difficulties, of which the
most significant was his own set of social fetiches, and he had
learned his weaknesses by exercise of his strength. He had made new
friends, and brought the old ones closer to him--and this by virtue of
honest plugging, and determination. He was unassumingly proud of
himself, and he was prouder yet of Anna; he knew that the major
portion of his accomplishment--and especially that part of it which
had taken place within himself--was to be put down to Anna's credit.
But the spring was coming towards them, and Henry winced to think of
it. Heretofore, the message of spring, in Henry's estimation, had been
a welcome to new clothes, golf, horseback parties, and out-of-door
flirtations; this season, it meant to him a falling-off in the
motion-picture business.

The spr