"Really!" she murmured.
He came back and sat down in the gilded chair. It was now so dusky in the
room that he couldn't see her very plainly.
So he folded his arms and abandoned himself to gloomy patience until the
room became very dark. Then he got up, struck a match, and lighted the
gas.
"By Jupiter!" he muttered, "I'm hungry."
For nearly five minutes she let the remark go apparently unnoticed. But
the complaint he had made is the one general and comprehensive appeal
that no woman ever born can altogether ignore. In the depths of her
something always responds, however faintly. And in the soul of this young
girl it was answering now--the subtle, occult response of woman to the
eternal and endless need of man--hunger of one kind or another.
"I'm sorry," she said, so sincerely that the sweetness in her voice
startled him.
"Why--why, do you know I believe you really are!" he said in grateful
surprise.
"I am a great many things that you have no idea I am," she said, smiling.
"What is one of them?"
"I'm afraid I'm a--a fool."
She came forward and stood looking at him.
"I've been thinking," she said, "that I can do you no kinder service than
to destroy those papers and let you go home."
For a moment he thought she was joking, then something in her expression
changed his opinion and he took a step forward, eyes fixed on her face.
"Yes," he said, "it would be the kindest thing you can do for me. Shall I
tell you why? It's because I'm hopelessly near-sighted. I wear glasses
when I'm alone in my study, where nobody can see me."
"What in the world has _that_ to do with my leaving you?" she asked,
colouring up.
"Suffragettes would never marry a near-sighted man, would they?"
"They ought not to."
"_You_ wouldn't, would you?"
"Why do you ask--such a thing?"
"I want to know."
"But how does your myopia concern _me_?" she said faintly.
"_Couldn't_ it--ever?" he asked, reddening.
"No," she said, turning pale.
"Then we'd better not stay here; and I'm going to be as generous as you
are," he said, advancing toward her. "I'm going to let you go home."
She backed away, thrusting the papers behind her; his arm slipped around
her, after them, strove to grasp them, to hold and restrain her, but
there was a strength in her tall, firm young body which matched his own;
she resisted, turned, twisted, confronted him with high colour, and lips
compressed, and they came to a deadlock, breathing fast and irregularly.
Again, coolly, dexterously, he pitted his adroitness, then his sheer
strength against hers; and it came again to a deadlock.
Suddenly she crook'd one smooth knee inside of his; her arms slid around
him like lightning; he felt himself rising into the air,
descending--there came a crash, a magnificent display of ocular
fireworks, and nothing further concerned him until he discovered himself
lying flat on the floor and heard somebody sobbing incoherencies beside
him.
He was mean enough to keep his eyes shut while she, on her knees beside
him, slopped water on his forehead and begged him to speak to her, and
told him her heart was broken and she desired to die and repose in
mortuary simplicity beside him forever.
Certain terms she employed in addressing what she feared were only his
mortal remains caused him to prick up his ears. He certainly was one of
the meanest of men.
"Dear," she sobbed, "I--I have l-loved you ever since your lithographs
were displayed during the election! Only speak to me! Only open those
beloved eyes! I don't care whether they are near-sighted! Oh, please,
please wake up!" she cried brokenly. "I'll give you back your papers.
What do I care about that old bill? I'm p-perfectly willing to do all
those things! Oh, oh, oh! How conscience does make Haus-fraus of us all!"
His meanness now became contemptible; he felt her trembling hands on his
brow; the fragrant, tearful face nearer, nearer, until her hot, flushed
cheeks and quivering lips touched his. And yet, incredible as it seems,
and to the everlasting shame of all his sex, he kept eyes and mouth shut
until a lively knocking on the door brought him bolt upright.
She uttered a little cry and shrank away from him on her knees, the tears
glimmering in her startled and wide open eyes.
"Good heavens, darling!" he said seriously; "how on earth are we going to
explain this?"
They scrambled hastily to their feet and gazed at each other while kicks
and blows began to rain on the door.
"I believe it's Dill," he whispered; "and I seem to hear the Mayor's
voice, too."
"Help! Help! For heaven's sake!" screamed the Mayor, "let us in, George!
There's a mob of suffragettes coming up the stairs!"
The Governor unlocked the door and jerked it open, just as several
unusually beautiful girls seized Mr. Dill and the Military Secretary.
The Mayor, however, rushed blindly into the room, his turban-swirl was
over one eye, his skirt was missing, his apron hung by one pin.
He ran headlong for a sofa and tried to scramble under it, but lovely and
vigorous arms seized his shins and drew him triumphantly forth.
"Hurrah!" they cried delightedly, "we have carried the entire ticket!"
"Hurrah!" echoed a sweet but tremulous voice, and a firm young arm was
slipped through the Governor's.
He turned to meet her beautiful, level gaze.
"Check!" she said.
"Make it check-mate," he said steadily.
"Mate _you_?"
"Will you?"
She bent her superb head a moment, then lifted her splendid eyes to his.
"Of course I will," she said, as steadily as her quickening heart
permitted. "Why do you suppose I ran after you?"
"Why?" whispered that infatuated man.
"Because," she said, naïvely, "I was afraid some other girl would get
you. . . . A girl never can be sure what another girl might do to a man.
. . . And I wanted you for myself."
"Thank God," he said, "that six-foot Professor Challis will never get me,
anyway."
She bent her adorable face close to his.
"Your excellency," she murmured, "_I_ am Professor Challis!"
At that instant a pretty and excited suffragette dashed up the stairs and
saluted.
"Professor," she cried, "all over the city desirable young men are being
pursued and married by the thousands! We have swept the State, with
Brooklyn and West Point yet to hear from!" Her glance fell upon the
Governor; she laughed glee-fully.
"Shall I call a taxi, Professor?" she asked.
An exquisite and modest pride transformed the features of Professor Betty
Challis to a beauty almost celestial.
"Let George do it," she said tenderly.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]