used to feel sure that my father would have been like them. I
felt--that I should have been proud of him." And suddenly she flung her
arms upon the table and bowed her face upon them and wept.

He stood beside her, patiently, helplessly. The suggestion of her lonely
girlhood with its hovering shadow smote him the more deeply because it
emphasized the care she had taken to subordinate herself throughout
their talk.

"Do you think you could ever be proud of me?--that you might even care a
little, some day?" he asked, bending over her.

"Oh, if it could be so!" she whispered brokenly, so low that he bent
closer to hear.

The room was very still. Sylvia rose and began drawing on her glove, not
looking at him. She was afraid to risk more; there was, indeed, nothing
more to say. It was for him to make his choice. He was silent so long
that she despaired. Then he passed his hand across his face like one
roused from sleep.

"Wait a moment," he said, "and I will walk home with you."

He went to the door and dispatched the guard on an errand; then he
seated himself at the table and picked up a pad of paper. He was still
writing when Harwood entered. Sylvia and Dan exchanged a nod, but no
words passed between them. They watched the man at the table, as he
wrote with a deliberation that Dan remembered as characteristic of him.
When he had finished, he copied what he had written, put the copy in his
breastpocket and buttoned his coat before glancing at Harwood.

"If I withdraw my name, what will happen?" he asked quietly.

"Ramsay will be nominated, sir," Dan answered.

Bassett studied a moment, fingering the memorandum he had written; then
he looked at Dan quizzically.

"Just between ourselves, Dan, do you really think the Colonel's
straight?"

"If he isn't, he has fooled a lot of people," Dan replied.

He had no idea of what had happened, but he felt that all was well with
Sylvia. It seemed a long time since Bassett had called him Dan!

"Well, I guess the Colonel's the best we can do. I'm out of it. This is
my formal withdrawal. Hand it to Robbins--you know him, of course. It
tells him what I want done. My votes go to Ramsay on the next ballot. I
look to you to see that it's played square. Give the Colonel my
compliments. That's all. Good-night."

* * * * *

Harwood called Robbins from the room where Bassett's men lounged,
waiting for the convening of the caucus, and delivered the