As he rounded the depot for the tenth time he got back to their last meeting. There stood General Ward with his arm about the girlish waist of Mrs. Ward, the mother of seven. There was John Barclay with Jane beside him, and they were holding hands like lovers. The Ward children were running like rabbits over the broad lawn under the elms, and there, talking to the wide, wide world, was Adrian Brownwell, propounding the philosophy of the _Banner_, and quoting from last week's editorials. And there sat Bob and Molly by the flower bed that bordered the porch. "I am going to the city to hear Gilmore," he said. That was simple enough, and her sigh had no meaning either. It was just a weary little sigh, such as women sometimes bring forth when they decide to say something else. So she had said: "I'll be all alone next week. I think I'll visit Jane--if she's in town." Then something throbbed in his brain and made him say:-- "So you'd like to hear Gilmore, too?" She coloured and was silent, and the pulse of madness that was beating in her made her answer:-- "Oh--I can't--you know the folks are going to Washington to the encampment, and Adrian is going as far as Cleveland with the delegation to write it up." An impulse loosened his tongue, and he asked:-- "Why not? Come on. If you don't know any one up there, go to the Fifth Avenue; it's all right, and I'll get tickets, and we'll go every night and both matinees. Come on!" he urged. She was aflame and could not think. "Oh--don't, Bob, don't--not now. Please don't," she begged, in as low a tone as she dared to use. Adrian was thundering on about the tariff, and the general was wrangling with him. The Barclays were talking to themselves, and the children were clattering about underfoot, and in the trees overhead. Bob's eyes and Molly's met, and the man shuddered at what he saw of pathos and yearning, and he said: "Well, why not? It's no worse to go than to want to go. What's wrong about it--Molly, do you think--" He did not finish the sentence, for Adrian had ceased talking, and Molly, seeing his jealous eyes upon her, rose and moved away. But before they left that night she found occasion to say, "I've been thinking about it, Bob, and maybe I will."