And in the preliminaries, which had been begun on the Saturday night hunt and carried on for the last three days, David Kildare had failed to make a single false move. His natural and inevitable absorption in his race for the judgeship had served to keep him from forcing a single issue; and Phoebe had had time to do a little lonely, unpursued thinking. He had been entirely too clever to arouse her pride against him by a suspicion of neglect in his attitude. His usual attentions were all offered and a new one or two contrived. He sent Eph to report to her with his electric every afternoon--she understood that he was unable by the exigencies of the case to come himself to take her to keep her appointments as was his custom. Her flowers were just as thoughtfully selected and sent with the gayest little notes, as like as possible to the ones that had been coming to her for years. He ordered in an unusually large basket of eggs from the farm and managed to find a complicated arrangement of rope and pulleys, the manipulation of which for an hour or more daily was warranted to add to or detract from the stature of man or woman, according to the desire of the dissatisfied individual. His note with the instrument was a scintillating skit and was answered in kind. But through it all Phoebe was undoubtedly lonely. This call, the second since Saturday and the second in the history of their joint existences, betrayed her to the now wily David more than she realized--perhaps! He took down the receiver and got the connection. "That you--dear?" David managed a casual voice with difficulty. "Yes, David," came in a voice that fairly radiated across the city. "I only wanted to ask how it goes." "Fine--with a rip! But you never can tell--about anything. I'm a Presbyterian and I'll die in doubt of my election. I'm learning not to count on--things." His voice carried a mournful note that utterly belied his radiant face. David was enjoying himself to almost the mortal limit! "David," there was a perceptible pause--"you--there is one thing you can always count on--isn't there--_me_?" The voice was very gallant but also slightly palpitating. David almost lost his head but hung on tight and came up right side. "Some," he answered, which reply, in the light of an extremely modern use of the word combined with the legitimate, was calculated to bring conclusion. Then he hurried another offering on to the wire. "How long are you going to be at home?" he asked--another dastardly tantalization. "I--I don't know exactly," she parried quickly. "Why?" and this from Phoebe who had always granted interviews like a queen gives jewels! David somewhere found the courage to lay a firm hand on himself. With just a few more blows the citadel was his! His own heart writhed and the uncertainty made him quake internally.