od her in good stead for the swimming races.
Pauline, as she taught the girls to call her, was always, or nearly
always, winner.

Nobody suspected who she was, and she found great amusement in the
occasional outburst of some matinee adorer, in regard to the charms of
Bob Garratry. She heard marvellous yarns about herself, her unhappy
marriage, her large group of children, her many lovers.

"No, I haven't seen the lady," she answered one of them, "but I'll wager
I can beat her swimming fifty yards."

"Oh, she wouldn't _swim_!" protested the girl.

"Wouldn't she? Poor sort, then," said "Pauline," trying the Australian
Crawl.

[Illustration: "Every night at midnight Paul called her on the 'phone"]

Every night at midnight Paul called her on the 'phone, and this was the
one vital hour of her day. He kept her as closely in touch with his
campaigning as she had been in New York. In return he demanded news of
her doings, her successes, and her friends. He announced that he was to
go on a trip through the state, lasting a week, and she lamented to
herself that their visits would cease, but he called her just the same
from the different towns.

One afternoon she sauntered down the hall to her room, after a series of
alleged pleasures, including luncheon and two teas. She was tired and
she vowed to herself that this was her last day of killing time.
To-morrow she would force herself to work. She opened the door and was
halfway across the room before she saw him smiling at her from the
hearthrug. Her hand went to her heart swiftly as he came toward her,
both hands out.

"Barbara!"

"Paul! But how--when----"

"I ran away! We were in a town where we were to have a meeting. I was
to be the main speaker. I don't know what happened to me: I just found
myself on a train coming here, and here I am."

He held her two hands and looked at her intently.

"But how long have you been here? Why didn't you let me know?"

"I wanted to surprise you. I've been pacing this room for one hour in
punishment."

"Oh, I'm sorry.... You're very thin and overworked, Governor."

"I know it. The strain is over soon now, thank Heaven. But you--it's you
I want to hear about; it's you I want to see, and listen to."

He helped her with her coat, placed her chair, and when she was seated,
he stood looking at her.

"You think I've changed?" she smiled at him.

"I never can remember how you look. It tantalizes me."

"Oh, didn't I leave you a