“The children are beside the point. I’m glad we have them; so are you. But you can’t justify everything, excuse all unhappiness, swallow yourself up, even in children. For God’s sake be reasonable, Cecily. Stick to the point at issue.” But she couldn’t. She lost her case, sadly undeveloped as it was, by her rapidly mounting hysteria. It ended by her being put to bed, being soothed by Dick, assured of things which he didn’t mean in his heart and which she knew he didn’t mean--by the sleep of exhaustion and day of shamed apology which followed for both of them. CHAPTER XXI It could not last too long after that, but they ran the whole gamut of possible moods. There were times when the antagonism between them seemed to one or the other so intangible, so imaginary as to be ludicrous; days when the air seemed cleared of dissension and unhappiness; any incident could alter the whole shape of things for them. Some new delight in the progress of the children, some anniversary which it seemed too cruel to let pass in anger, would make them both happy. But they never quite relaxed, never quite felt faith in each other. And the most trivial thing could upset their balance--a fancied slight, a casual statement which was translated into a criticism. On their guard constantly, neither of them felt peace. The days were absorbing for Dick just at this time, too. In July Matthew had unexpectedly yielded to the pressure upon him to become a candidate for United States Senator to fill the unexpired term of the incumbent who had just died. He had refused many political honors and opportunities before, but this time the political situation looked so black that he could not justify refusal. He knew his usefulness well in a state where blind conservatism and dangerous dissatisfaction were in constant ferment; and his acquaintance and high standing among all kinds of men made his nomination fairly certain. But his decision left Dick alone and depressed. It was not that he did not approve of Matthew’s action, but that they had come to depend upon each other more and more in business. They had worked out the development of the mines together lately. With Matthew away for even a part of the year, responsibility would fall very heavily on Dick, and things were far from satisfactory. A spreading sense of loneliness encompassed Dick. He tried to satisfy himself in the children, but an hour’s play with them, refreshing and delightful as it was, did not give him all he sought or all he needed. Gradually there came silent moods in which he spent most of his hours of relaxation and which were only broken by a plunge into business or into the midst of some noisy party at which Cecily might or might not join him. It did not matter whether she did or not. He was tied to the sense of her instinctive criticism of many of the things he liked and she to her sense of failure.