care for. I'm really
not your sort of person at all, you know."

"Perhaps," he said, "it's because you are the most thoroughbred woman I
know, and I want to be proud of my wife. Perhaps it's merely that you're
you."

"Thank you," she said simply. "It's a pity, Morgan dear, that I can love
you in every way except the one way. I wish you'd pick out a girl really
suited to you."

"By the 'every way except the one way,'" he interposed, "you mean
platonically?"

Anne nodded, and the man said, "Of course I know the reason. It's
Boone."

"Yes." The admission was disarmingly frank. "It's Boone. I've just had a
letter from him. He won his race for the legislature and now he's laying
down his lines of campaign for the bigger prize of the congressional
race next time."

Morgan's smile was innocent of grudge-bearing. "I know. I wired
congratulations this morning. Of course his race was really won when he
came out of the primaries victorious."

Anne reflected that in the old days Morgan would have spoken
differently, and in a less generous spirit. To him a contest for a
legislative seat from a rough hill district must appear almost trivial,
and for the victor his personal rancour might have left no room for
congratulation. He himself had, in a larger battle, just won more
conspicuous prizes of reputation and power, and yet the heartiness of
his tone as he spoke of Boone's little success was sincere and in no
sense marred by any taint of the perfunctory.

"It was rather handsome of Boone to go back there and throw his hat into
the ring," he continued gravely. "He might have harvested quicker and
showier results here, but he wanted to be identified with his own
people. God knows they need a Progressive, in that benighted
hinterland."

Anne's eyes mirrored her gratification, but before she could give it
expression the car stopped.

"What!" exclaimed Morgan; "are we here already?" He opened the door and
helped her out, but as he stood on the sidewalk with his hat raised he
added in a note of unalterable resolve:

"I don't want to persecute and pursue you, Anne, but the day will
come--perhaps the forty thousand and ninety-sixth time of asking--when
you'll say 'Yes.' Meanwhile I can wait--since I must. One thing I
cannot and will not do; give you up."

"Good-bye," she smiled. "And thank you for the lift."

Morgan turned to the car again and said crisply to the driver: "Straight
to the office. I sha'n't stop for lunch no