st dangerous
position is in the centre."

"He told me something like that once. The trouble with him is that he
hasn't a point of view, but a vision. He sees the whole, and politics is
only a little part of it."

"Yes, he sees a human fight, while they are trying to make a political
squabble. He may win them over to-night, but this is only the beginning.
The real fight is against individual self-interest." He laughed in an
undertone. "I remember he told me once that the only trouble with
Christianity was the Christians. 'You can't have Christianity', he said,
'until Christians are different'. That's just as true, of course, of
politics. The only trouble with politics is the politicians."

"Well, it's a muddle," she responded impatiently. "However you look at
it. Come back in an hour or two, and I may be able to help you." Her
cheerful smile shone on him for an instant; then she entered the house
and closed the door after her.

In one of the worn leather chairs in the library, Patty was sitting
perfectly still, with her eyes fixed on the orderly row of papers on the
Governor's desk. She wore a white dress with a black ribbon at her
waist, and in the dim light, with her pale face and her cloudy hair, she
had a ghostly look as if she would turn to mist at a touch. When Corinna
entered, she rose and held out her hands. "You are so good," she said.
"I never dreamed that any body could be so good and so beautiful too!"

"My dear," began Corinna brightly, and while she spoke she drew the girl
to the leather-covered couch by the window, and sat down still holding
the cold hands in her warm ones. "So you are going to marry Stephen."

"I can't," replied Patty, and she turned her face slightly away as if
she shrank from meeting Corinna's eyes. "I can't after what I know. I
can't do it because of Father."

"Because of your father?" repeated Corinna. "But surely your father
wishes you to be happy?"

"Oh, I know he does. It isn't that. But this will all come out. That is
what Julius Gershom meant when he threatened. They are trying to do him
some harm--Father, I mean--"

"I understand that, but still how in the world--"

Before she could finish her sentence Patty interrupted in an hysterical
voice--the voice of youth that is always dramatic: "Nobody will ever
mean as much to me as Father does," she cried. "I know that now. I've
known it ever since I found out that he began it just out of
kindness--that I had no claim on h