"Moore is not running for office this year," said Danvers presently, finding it easier to talk of matters politic. "No. Charlie wants a place in the Senate--perhaps you know." She changed the subject by asking, "Do you think that a man should ever vote for a candidate not in his own party?" "If he votes for the better man--especially in local politics--yes. Is it a political crime in your eyes?" "I believe most politicians think so." Miss Blair also resorted to evasion. They were joined by other guests, and the conversation became general. The Honorable Mr. Moore, resplendent in a new dress suit, was saying pleasant things to his hostess. "What a lucky dog the judge is, my dear Mrs. Latimer! You would carry off any situation. You deserve a wider field than this small Western city." "Really?" cooed the flattered lady. As she moved away, Moore's glance followed her, and a look of sudden inspiration illumined his shiny face. Wild Cat Bill, with his rotund form, resembled a domesticated house cat far more than the agile creature which had given him his frontier title. The incongruity struck Danvers, and he smiled at Winifred Blair as she drifted to another part of the room--a smile that she returned with a friendly nod of farewell. He did not see her again that evening, and not long afterward he and the doctor bade their hostess good-night. "Not sorry you went, are you, Phil?" asked the doctor, as they walked to their hotel. "Goodness knows, Arthur and I labored hard enough to get you there." "I have always disliked dinner parties." The observant doctor noticed the wording of the reply and drew his own conclusions. "Come in and have a smoke with me," said the doctor, as they reached his room, and he bent over to insert the key. For years it had been Danvers' habit to drop into the physician's office during the late afternoon or evening, to talk or smoke in silence, as the case may be. To-night he followed the doctor, and sat down for a half-hour's chat. "That was a fetching gown that Mrs. Latimer wore; I don't envy Arthur the bills!" remarked the astute doctor, as he filled his pipe. "I didn't notice," was Philip's indifferent reply. "I never know what women have on." "And how lovely Miss Blair looked in blue!" "Soft rose!" came the correction from the man who never noticed. The doctor's mouth twitched, but he smoked on in silence, and when he bade Philip good-night he gave him a God-bless-you pat on the shoulder, which the coming senator from Chouteau interpreted solely as due to his long friendship. Danvers was wakeful that night, and a name sang through his drowsy brain until he roused, impatient.