Not often is a man able to gratify so many widely differing tastes as was Sayler by bringing together Helm and Eleanor. It pleased his natural amiability, his sentimentality, his love of mischief, his passion for political scheming, his impatience with the pompous and wearisome pretensions of her father, and several other minor tastes. Perhaps, as he entered the upstairs sitting-room where Eleanor was giving orders to her maid, amiability was uppermost in his mind. Amiability was one of his strongest traits; it is always a strong trait in the characters of politicians, and expands with use and with pretense. Said he when the maid had gone: “George Helm is down stairs.” Before she could control herself, she had betrayed herself by looking wildly round to escape. Sayler ignored and went tranquilly on: “I told him I was sure you’d be glad to see him. I know what a good judge of character you are. You must have seen what a remarkable man he is--about the strongest I’ve come across, among the younger men. He’ll be nominated for governor next fall--and elected, I suspect. And he’ll go up--and up. _There’s_ the sort of man you ought to marry, Eleanor.” “I don’t want to marry _anybody_,” cried she with the pettish anger of a child. Sayler made mental note of this sign of nervous tension, and proceeded: “You are always saying that a husband who had already arrived would be uninteresting in comparison with one who had the makings of a career in him, and whom the wife could help--could work with, and go up with. Here’s your chance--and as good a one as ever was offered a woman.” Eleanor was listening--was looking at the wily schemer with wistful eyes. “You’re not joking?” said she. “I’m disappointed in you,” said Sayler. “You’re not so big or so clever as I fancied. You’re just ordinary woman, after all.” Eleanor blushed, and her eyes sank. “I thought you were big enough to see _him_,” proceeded Sayler. “But you saw only what you shallow women are able to see--the fit of his clothes, the absence of a valet, the lessons in manners he has yet to learn and will learn soon enough. You don’t want the man with the career to make. You want the ready-made man. You want to have nothing to do but shine by his light, be his trivial ornament and plaything. Oh, you women!” He laughed with good-humored mockery. “What frauds you are--and how little you count for.” “I am engaged to him,” said Eleanor quietly--with a look that ludicrously mingled pride and fear and apology. Sayler shrugged his shoulders. “An impulse you’ve repented,” said he. “I think I must have been crazy,” said she. “I think _he_ must have been crazy,” retorted Sayler. “But he has come to his senses. He’s here to release you.” Eleanor’s eyes flashed.