ny pictures?"

"Pictures! I don't want any Miss Barbara Garratry advertisements. I know
how she looks. It's _you_ I can't remember. You've had a big success
here. Does it make you happy?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

"No fight--too easy. That's one of my troubles: there seems to be so
little for me to fight for in my work. Lord! that sounds self-satisfied.
I don't mean it that way. I mean that developing as an artist is a
peaceful process, rather. The days when I had to fight for my chance,
fight for my part, fight the stage manager to let me do it my way, fight
the audience to make it like me--oh, those were the days that counted!
Daddy and I used to talk things over nights. He was cautious. He'd say:
'Well, ye' lose yer job if you do that,' but when I had done it, he used
to laugh and say: 'Bob, son av battle, shure enough'."

Paul laughed.

"The dulness of being successful! There's something in it, Bob."

"Of course there is. Report on your week, sir."

"Well, the boys say it went all right, but I didn't seem to have my
heart in it. I've been so restless, so sort of bored with people and
things. I can't get down to work. I even find myself thinking of what I
am going to say to you over the telephone, right in the middle of a
speech, with a big audience out there in front of me."

Barbara laughed.

"I suppose I'm tired. I don't know what else can be the matter with me."

She laughed again.

"What is it that amuses you?"

"Can't I laugh when I'm happy?"

"Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I just found out something."

"What?"

"Secret."

"Tell me?"

"Maybe--some day."

He stared at her again.

"I know," she nodded, "I am a different girl from the one you married.
I'm sorry, but it can't be helped."

"If you're happy, you aren't thinking of--you're not wanting to die?"

"Not until you're governor, anyway."

"You always say that, Barbara. It terrifies me. You mean that if I win,
you still may----"

She rose and faced him.

"Not to-night. I'll tell you my plans the night you are elected. Come
along now, and eat of the sacred codfish."

"You are a little glad to see me?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes. Boston is boring me to death," she evaded him.

"Damn Boston!" was his succinct reply.

III

As Trent's campaign neared its close, Barbara could tell by the
weariness in his voice, over the 'phone, just how near he was to the end
of his endurance. It fretted her constan