It seemed to her there was not. Only an ambition tirelessly at work. An ambition with a keen, nervous face, sharp eyes, thin hands and an eloquent voice. But something more. A man who didn't hide inside ideas but who remained outside them, giving himself to nothing except his consuming desire to utilize ideas for his own end. He remained outside manipulating. He manipulated life. All for what? Fascinated, she fell in love. When he came in where she was, her heart jumped. When he talked to her, something contracted in her throat, and frightened her. She had her day dreams. As the spring opened sunny mornings over the streets, she would sit gazing out of the tall windows and think of Basine. Her thoughts took an odd turn. They built up scenes in which Basine lay defeated. Accidents had maimed him. Political reversals had taken the heart out of him. He was ruined, poor, without employment. She pictured such situations with relish. In them she appeared as an understanding one. She would fancy herself coming to him and shaking her head sadly and saying, "Poor man. I'm so sorry. But you see ... you see where it all led? to this." And she would fancy him smiling back with a romantic tiredness and reaching for her hand and answering as if he were an actor with a speech: "Yes, my dear? I've been wrong. Ambition is wrong. I'm ruined. And it is only proof that I was wrong." And then, in her fancies, he would look at her tenderly and raising her hand to his lips murmur, "Forgive me, Ruth." The door of the chambers opened and Ruth looked up, startled. Paul Schroder strode in. He looked jaunty. She smiled. He was one of Basine's friends, and she liked him for that. He had been of the hard-working loyal ones during Basine's campaign. "Oh, nothing in particular," he said. "Thought I'd just drop in for a smoke. How's his Honor, these days?" "He's very fine," Ruth answered. Schroder shook his head. "I'm afraid he's drying up," he grinned. "That's the trouble with men of his type. Get their noses down to a grindstone and never have time to look up." Ruth blushed. That didn't sound like a loyal speech. She saw Schroder smiling broadly at her. "You're quite a champion of his," he was saying. "Well, well. Maybe his Honor isn't as slow as I've been giving him credit for being." From anyone else this would have been offensive, she thought. But there was something pleasing in the accusation. She hesitated and then returned his smile. "You know as well as I, what kind of a man Judge Basine is," she answered. "He's the kind every woman respects at first sight." "Loves, you mean," said Schroder. "Oh no, I don't think a woman could really love Mr. Basine," she smiled. "He's too much wrapped up in himself." "Well, I don't know then," said Schroder, "his wife puts up a pretty good bluff then." Ruth's smile left her. "Oh," she said, "of course." Schroder laughed.