ss
take a high hand with him concerning the episode, and there was nothing
which George Remington would have welcomed like an antagonist of his own
size and sex.

But Penny did not appear, and the afternoon passed draggingly for the
candidate for the district attorneyship. He tried to busy himself with
the affairs of his clients, but even when he could keep away from his
windows he was aware of the crowds in front of McMonigal's block, of
Frances Herrington, her "ducky" toque and her infernal voiceless speech.

And when, for a second, he was able to forget these, he heard from the
outer office the unmistakable sounds of a desk being permanently cleared
of its present incumbent's belongings.

After a while, Betty bade him a too courteous good-by, still with that
abominable new air of gravely readjusting her old impressions of him.
And then there was nothing to do but to go home and make ready for
dinner at the Herrington's, unless he could induce Genevieve to have an
opportune headache.

Of course Betty had been right. Not upon his masculine shoulders should
there be laid the absurd burden of political chagrin strong enough to
break a social engagement.

Genevieve was in her room. The library was given over to Alys
Brewster-Smith, Cousin Emelene Brand, two rusty callers and the
tea things. Before the drawing-room fire, Hanna slept in Maltese
proprietorship. George longed with passion to kick the cat.

Genevieve, as he saw through the open door, sat by the window. She had,
it appeared, but recently come in. She still wore her hat and coat; she
had not even drawn off her gloves. And seeing her thus, absorbed in some
problem, George's sense of his wrongs grew greater.

He had, he told himself, hurried home out of the jar and fret of a man's
day to find balm, to feel the cool fingers of peace pressed upon hot
eyelids, to drink strengthening draughts of refreshment from his wife's
unquestioning belief, from the completeness of her absorption in him.
And here she sat thinking of something else!

Genevieve arose, a little startled as he snapped on the lights
and grunted out something which optimism might translate into an
affectionate husbandly greeting. She came dutifully forward and raised
her face, still exquisite and cool from the outer air, for her lord's
home-coming kiss. That resolved itself into a slovenly peck.

"Been out?" asked George unnecessarily. He tried to quell the
unreasonable inclination to find he