it himself. A new secretary--the old one had been promoted to
some position of political prominence at home--did not know her and had
not been warned against her by name. So she was sitting there when Albee
came in with his old cheerful, dominating, leonine look. Just for the
fraction of a second his face fell at seeing her, and then he hurried to
her side, as if out of all the world she was the person he most wanted
to see.

It must not be supposed that Lydia had become so saintly that she had
forgotten her knowledge of men. She knew now that if she were cordial
to Albee she could not depend on his doing what she wanted. If on the
other hand she withheld her friendship she was sure he would bid high
for it. She ignored all his flustered protestations. She smiled at him,
a smile a little sad, a little chilly and infinitely remote.

"I want very much to speak to you, Stephen," she said, and her tone told
him that whatever she wanted to talk about had nothing whatsoever to do
with themselves.

He led her into the inner office. A curious thing was happening to him.
He had never been in love with Lydia. He had deliberately allowed her
beauty and wealth to dazzle him; he had admired her courage, her
sureness of herself, contrasting it with his own terror of giving
offense to anyone; but at times he had almost hated her. If she had
inspired him with one atom of tenderness he would not have deserted her.
She never had. He had cut himself off from her without regret. But now
as she sat there, finer and paler and more--much more--than two years
older, she did inspire tenderness, tenderness of a most vivid and
disturbing sort. He could not take his eyes from her face. He suddenly
cut into what she was saying about Evans.

"Lydia, my dear, are you happy? Yes, yes, of course I can get from the
governor anything you ask me, but tell me about yourself."

He leaned over, taking her hands in his. She rose, withdrawing them
slowly as she did so.

"Not now," she answered, and moved toward the door.

"You mustn't go like that," he protested. "Just think, my dear, I have
not seen you for two years--the toughest two years I ever spent! You
can't just come and go like this. I must see you, talk to you."

"When you have got me Evans' pardon, Stephen--if you get it." She still
spoke gently, but there was a good deal of intention behind Lydia at her
gentlest.

He caught the "if"--almost an insult after his confident assertion, but
h